Scene III

Florence. Before the Duke's palace

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.


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.


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