Page 1408 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you [35]
Expels the seeds of fear, and th’apprehension
Which still is farther off it, go with me
Before the god of our profession; there

Require of him the hearts of lions and
The breath of tigers, yea, the fierceness too, [40]
Yea, the speed also − to go on, I mean;
Else wish we to he snails. You know my prize

Must be dragged out of blood; force and great feat
Must put my garland on me, where she sticks,
The queen of flowers. Our intercession, then, [45]
Must be to him that makes the camp a cistern

Brimmed with the blood of men; give me your aid,
And bend your spirits towards him.
They prostrate themselves, then kneel before the altar af Mars.
Thou mighty one, that with thy power hast turned

Green Neptune into purple, whose approach [50]
Comets prewarn, whose havoc in vast field
Unearthèd skulls proclaim, whose breath blows down
The teeming Ceres’ foison, who dost pluck

With hand armipotent from forth blue clouds
The masoned turrets, that both makest and breakest [55]
The stony girths of cities; me thy pupil,
Youngest follower of thy drum, instruct this day

With military skill, that to thy laud
I may advance my streamer, and by thee
Be styled the lord o’th’day; give me, great Mars, [60]
Some token of thy pleasure.

Here they fall on their faces as formerly, and there is heard clanging of
armour, with a short thunder as the burst of a battle, whereupon they all rise
and bow to the altar.
O great corrector of enormous times,

Shaker of o’er-rank states, thou grand decider
Of dusty and old titles, that healest with blood
The earth when it is sick, and curest the world [65]
O’th’plurisy of people; I do take

Thy signs auspiciously, and in thy name
To my design march boldly. Let us go.