Original Text
Florence. Before the Duke's palace. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Bertram, drum and trumpets, Soldiers, Parolles.
Original Text
DUKE. The general of our horse thou art, and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promising fortune. BERTRAM. 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.
Original Text
DUKE. Then go thou forth; And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, As thy auspicious mistress! BERTRAM. 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. [_Exeunt._]