Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, Parolles, Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets
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 the extreme edge of hazard.
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.