Sebast. Not less even in this despicable now, Than when my name filled Afric with affright, And froze your hearts beneath your torrid zone.

Bend. [To M. Mol.] Extravagantly brave! even to an impudence Of greatness.

Sebast. Here satiate all your fury: 
Let fortune empty her whole quiver on me;
I have a soul, that, like an ample shield,
Can take in all, and verge enough for more. 
I would have conquered you; and ventured only
A narrow neck of land for a third world,
To give my loosened subjects room to play. 
Fate was not mine,
Nor am I fate’s.  Now I have pleased my longing,
And trod the ground which I beheld from far,
I beg no pity for this mouldering clay;
For, if you give it burial, there it takes
Possession of your earth;
If burnt and scattered in the air, the winds,
That strow my dust, diffuse my royalty,
And spread me o’er your clime:  for where one atom
Of mine shall light, know, there Sebastian reigns.

M.  Mol. What shall I do to conquer thee?

Sebast. Impossible!  Souls know no conquerors.

M.  Mol. I’ll shew thee for a monster through my Afric.

Sebast. No, thou canst only shew me for a man:  Afric is stored with monsters; man’s a prodigy, Thy subjects have not seen.

M.  Mol. Thou talk’st as if Still at the head of battle.

Sebast. Thou mistakest, For then I would not talk.

Bend. Sure he would sleep.

Sebast. Till doomsday, when the trumpet sounds to rise; For that’s a soldier’s call.

M.  Mol. Thou’rt brave too late; Thou shouldst have died in battle, like a soldier.

Sebast. I fought and fell like one, but death deceived me; I wanted weight of feeble Moors upon me, To crush my soul out.

M.  Mol. Still untameable!  In what a ruin has thy head-strong pride, And boundless thirst of empire, plunged thy people!

Sebast. What sayst thou? ha! no more of that.

M.  Mol. Behold, What carcases of thine thy crimes have strewed, And left our Afric vultures to devour.

Bend. Those souls were those thy God intrusted with thee, To cherish, not destroy.

Sebast. Witness, O heaven, how much
This sight concerns me! would I had a soul
For each of these; how gladly would I pay
The ransom down!  But since I have but one,
’Tis a king’s life, and freely ’tis bestowed. 
Not your false prophet, but eternal justice
Has destined me the lot, to die for these: 
’Tis fit a sovereign so should pay such subjects;
For subjects such as they are seldom seen,
Who not forsook me at my greatest need;
Nor for base lucre sold their loyalty,
But shared my dangers to the last event,
And fenced them with their own.  These thanks I pay you;
          
                                          [Wipes his eyes.
And know, that, when Sebastian weeps, his tears
Come harder than his blood.