Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, drum
and trumpets, soldiers, Parolles
The general of our horse thou art, and we,
Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence
Upon thy promising fortune.
Sir, it is
A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet
We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake
To th' extreme edge of hazard.
Then go thou forth,
And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm
As thy auspicious mistress!
This very day,
Great Mars, I put myself into thy file;
Make me but like my thoughts and I shall prove
A lover of thy drum, hater of love.