2d Des. Yes, sire. ’T would be all the same if it did n’t, for they ’ve hardly strength left to stand on their toes and fire the guns.
Max. Poor fellows!
Lop. You can not doubt, my lord, that we shall win with the next assault.
Mir. Cast fear to the winds, your majesty!
Salm. Who spoke of fear?
Mir. Not I! Fear is the devil’s magic-glass
He holds before us to swell out our vision,
Turn hares to lions, stones a lamb might skip
To beetling cliffs that ne’er knew human foot,
And slightest obstacles, that do but make
The mind’s fair exercise and moral zest,
To barriers, high as heaven, to success!
Lop. (Sneering) And Juarez’ men of rags to glittering armies!
Max. We ’ll hazard battle.
Salm. I beg your majesty—
Max. We know your courage, prince, for it is writ
In many a scar; but you are wrong in this.