Audley.
Perhaps you think the Prince too, is afraid?
Dagworth.
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 flash'd
From his eyes across the field: I have seen him
Shake hands with death, and strike a bargain for
The enemy; he has danced 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.
Audley.
Are you afraid, too, Sir Thomas?
I helieve that as much as I believe
The King's afraid; but what are you afraid of?
Dagworth.
Of having my back laid open; we turn
Our backs to the fire, till we shall burn our skirts.
Audley.
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 your back.
I do not think, Sir Thomas, you know what fear is.
