Page:The poetical works of William Blake; a new and verbatim text from the manuscript engraved and letterpress originals (1905).djvu/72

 Dagw. Mayhap you may: look upon Edward's face,

No one can say he fears. But when he turns

His back, then I will say it to his face,

He is afraid: he makes us all afraid.

I cannot bear the enemy at my back.

Now here we are at Cressy; where to-morrow,

To-morrow we shall know. I say, Lord Audley,

That Edward runs away from Philip.

Aud. Perhaps you think the Prince too is afraid?

Dagw. No; God forbid! I'm sure he is not.

He is a young lion. O I have seen him fight

And give command, and lightning has flashed

From his eyes across the field: I have seen him

Shake hands with death, and strike a bargain for

The enemy; he has danc'd in the field

Of battle, like the youth at morrice play.

I'm sure he's not afraid, nor Warwick, nor none,

None of us but me, and I am very much afraid.

Aud. Are you afraid too. Sir Thomas?

I believe that as much as I believe

The King's afraid: but what are you afraid of?

Dagw. Of having my back laid open; we turn

Our backs to the fire, till we shall burn our skirts.

And. And this, Sir Thomas, you call fear? Your fear

Is of a different kind then from the King's;

He fears to turn his face, and you to turn your back.

I do not think, Sir Thomas, you know what fear is.

Enter Sir John Chandos.

Chand. Good morrow. Generals; I give you joy:

Welcome to the fields of Cressy. Here we stop,

And wait for Philip.

Dagw. I hope so.

Aud. There, Sir Thomas, do you call that fear?

Dagw. I don't know; perhaps he takes it by fits.

Why, noble Chandos, look you here, One rotten sheep spoils the whole flock;

And if the bell-weather is tainted, I wish

The Prince may not catch the distemper too.

Chand. Distemper, Sir Thomas! what distemper?

I have not heard.

Dagw. Why, Chandos, you are a wise man,

I know you understand me; a distemper

The King caught here in France of running away.

Aud. Sir Thomas, you say you have caught it too.

Dagw. And so will the whole army; 'tis very catching,

For, when the coward runs, the brave man totters.

Perhaps the air of the country is the cause.

I feel it coming upon me, so I strive against it;