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Section 190
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Lar.
Oh Noble Fellow!
Who sensibly out‑dares his sencelesse Sword,
And when it bowes, stand'st vp: Thou art left Martius,
A Carbuncle intire: as big as thou art
Weare not so rich a Iewell. Thou was't a Souldier
Euen to Calues wish, not fierce and terrible
Onely in strokes, but with thy grim lookes, and
The Thunder‑like percussion of thy sounds
Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the World
Were Feauorous, and did tremble.