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A: You blame me that I ran away?
Why, Sir, the enemy advanced:
Balls flew about, and--who can say
But one, if I stood firm, had glanced
In my direction? Cowardice?
I only know we don't live twice,
Therefore--shun death, is my advice.


B: Shun death at all risks? Well at some!
True, I myself, Sir, though I scold
The cowardly, by no means come
Under reproof as overbold
--I, who would have no end of brutes
Cut up alive to guess what suits
My case and saves my toe from shoots.