A two-heeled sword

FEAREFULNESS may seeme to be a timorous distrustfull dejection of the mind. A fearefull man is of this fashion: if he be at sea, he fears the Promontories to be the enemies Navy: and at every cross gale or billow, asketh if the Sailers be expert; whether there be not some Novices amongst them, or no. When the Pilot gives the ship but a little clout, he asketh if the ship holde a middle course. He knows not well whether he should fear or hope. He telleth him that sits next him, how he was terrifi'd with a dream not long since: Then he puts off his shirt, and gives it the boy: entreats the Sailors to set him on shore. Being in service at land, he calleth his fellow soldiers unto him: and looking earnestly upon them, sayth; 'Tis hard to know whether you be enemies, or no. Hearing a bustling, and seeing some fall, he tells them, That for pure hast he had forgotten his two-hand sword: and so soon as by running he hath recovered his tent, he sendeth the boy to scout warily where the enemy is: Then hideth he his long sword under his pillow: then he spendeth much time in seeking of it. And if by chance he see any wounded brought over toward the tent, he runneth to him, encourageth him, bids him take a man's heart, and be resolute. Hee's very tender over him, and wipes away the corruption of his wound with a sponge: hee drives away the flies. He had rather do any work about the house than fight: He careth not how little blood he looseth himself: His two-heel'd sword is his best weapon: When the Trumpet sounds a charge, sitting in his tent: A mischief on him (sayth he) he dis quieteth the poor wounded man, he can take no rest for him. He loves the blood and glory of another mans wound. He will brag when he comes out of the field, how many friends he brought off with the hazard of his owne life. He brings to the hurt man, many of the same band, to visit him: and tells them all, that he with his owne hand brought him into his tent.