I am no hero, Gretchen, in myself—
A plain, rude man, with just so much of sense
As to go gladly two leagues round about
To save a broken crown; who loves not blood—
Unless, indeed, it be his own, and that
He loves too well to lose it willingly!
So, cousin Gretchen,
If there be aught of valour in my deeds,
The merit of it is thine own, not mine.
Gret. Mine, Gottfried? mine?