What we take from them is no more 1020
Than what was our’s by right before;
For we are their true landlords still,
And they our tenants but at will. 
At this the Knight began to rouze,
And by degrees grow valorous. 1025
He star’d about, and seeing none
Of all his foes remain, but one,
He snatch’d his weapon, that lay near him,
And from the ground began to rear him;
Vowing to make Crowdero pay 1030
For all the rest that ran away. 
But Ralpho now, in colder blood,
His fury mildly thus withstood: 
Great Sir, quoth he, your mighty spirit
Is rais’d too high:  this slave does merit 1035
To be the hangman’s bus’ness, sooner
Than from your hand to have the honour
Of his destruction.  I, that am
A nothingness in deed and name
Did scorn to hurt his forfeit carcase, 1040
Or ill intreat his fiddle or case: 
Will you, great Sir, that glory blot
In cold blood which you gain’d in hot? 
Will you employ your conqu’ring sword
To break a fiddle and your word? 1045
For though I fought, and overcame,
And quarter gave, ’twas in your name. 
For great commanders only own
What’s prosperous by the soldier done. 
To save, where you have pow’r to kill, 1050
Argues your pow’r above your will;
And that your will and pow’r have less
Than both might have of selfishness. 
This pow’r which, now alive, with dread
He trembles at, if he were dead, 1055
Wou’d no more keep the slave in awe,
Than if you were a Knight of straw: 
For death would then be his conqueror;
Not you, and free him from that terror. 
If danger from his life accrue; 1060
Or honour from his death, to you,
’Twere policy, and honour too,
To do as you resolv’d to do: 
But, Sir, ’twou’d wrong your valour much,
To say it needs or fears a crutch. 1065
Great conquerors greater glory gain
By foes in triumph led, than slain: 
The laurels that adorn their brows
Are pull’d from living not dead boughs,
And living foes:  the greatest fame 1070
Of cripple slain can be but lame. 
One half of him’s already slain,
The other is not worth your pain;
Th’ honour can but on one side light,
As worship did, when y’ were dubb’d Knight. 1075
Wherefore I think it better far
To keep him prisoner of war;
And let him fast in bonds abide,
At court of Justice to be try’d;
Where, if he appear so bold and crafty, 1080
There may be danger in his safety. 
If any member there dislike
His face, or to his beard have pique;
Or if his death will save or yield,
Revenge or fright, it is reveal’d.