First he was A noble servant to them; but he could not Carry his honours even: whether 'twas pride, Which out of daily fortune ever taints The happy man; whether defect of judgment, To fail in the disposing of those chances Which he was lord of; or whether nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace Even with the same austerity and garb As he controll'd the war; but one of these-- As he hath spices of them all, not all, For I dare so far free him--made him fear'd, So hated, and so banish'd: but he has a merit, To choke it in the utterance.