"How, caitiff!" cried Sir Launcelot, "presume to contend with me in argument ?" "Your mouth is scarce shut," said the other, "since you declared that a man was not to be punished for madness, because it was a distemper.

Now I will maintain that cowardice is a distemper, as well as madness; for nobody would be afraid, if he could help it." "There is more logic in that remark," resumed the knight, "than I expected from your clod-pate, Crabshaw.

But I must explain the difference between cowardice and madness.

Cowardice, though sometimes the effect of natural imbecility, is generally a prejudice of education, or bad habit contracted from misinformation, or misapprehension; and may certainly be cured by experience, and the exercise of reason.

But this remedy cannot be applied in madness, which is a privation or disorder of reason itself." "So is cowardice, as I'm a living soul," exclaimed the squire; "don't you say a man is frightened out of his senses?
for my peart, measter, I can neither see nor hear, much less argufy, when I'm in such a quandary.
Wherefore, I do believe, odds bodikins! that cowardice and madness are both distempers, and differ no more than the hot and cold fits of an ague.