Let every soldier hew him down a bough, / And bear’t before him. Thereby shall we shadow / The numbers of our host, and make discovery / Err in report of us.

Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, / But certain issue strokes must arbitrate; / Towards which advance the war.

’Tis his main hope; / For where there is advantage to be given, / Both more and less have given him the revolt, / And none serve with him but constrained things, / Whose hearts are absent too.