"What do you think that he who you see clinging to the ruins of that besieged castle wall, furious and beside himself, exposed to the hits of so many muskets; or the other, whose face is covered with scars, and who himself is deathly exhausted and yellow with hunger, but determined to die rather than open the gates...: well, what do you think, they shed their blood for themselves? Come on! They will sell their skins for someone whom they have never seen, and who meanwhile is immersed in idleness and pleasures, and does not even care about the sacrifice of the poor devils.
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Author
Michel de MontaigneAll Translations
All Translations
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What do you think that he who you see clinging to the ruins of that besieged castle wall, furious and beside himself, exposed to the hits of so many muskets; or the other, whose face is covered with scars, and who himself is deathly exhausted and yellow with hunger, but determined to die rather than open the gates...: well, what do you think, they shed their blood for themselves? Come on! They will sell their skins for someone whom they have never seen, and who meanwhile is immersed in idleness and pleasures, and does not even care about the sacrifice of the poor devils.
""Mit gondolsz, hogy akit felfelé látsz kapaszkodni ama ostromolt várfal omladékain, dühödten és magánkívül, kitéve annyi muskéta találatának; vagy az a másik, akinek az arca csupa sebhely, ő maga meg halálosan kimerült és viaszsárga az éhségtől, de eltökélte, hogy inkább megdöglik, semhogy a kapukat kinyissa...: nos, mit gondolsz, ezek önmagukért hullatják a vérüket? Ugyan! Olyan valakiért viszik vásárra a bőrüket, akit talán sohasem láttak, s aki eközben elmerül a tétlenségben, élvezetekben, s nem is törődik a szegény ördögök áldozatával."