QUESTENBERG

Have good hope Sir, Tides then approach their full height, when their ebb Has been at lowest; the most hideous tempests, Which seemed to threat the ruin of the world, Bing ushered in by thunder and hight lightning, Are soonest passed, there's nothing violent Can boast of perpetuity; our Fortune's Are not so desperate, as our fears present them: We've hands and hearts left yet, that dare oppose The inhumane Traitor, and our causes justice Assures us, if we cannot live victorious, We shall die nobly. Mighty Caesar, To doubt and ill before it fallen upon us, amongst valiant and resolved souls is counted A point of cowardice: Great Spirits ever Should be above their fates; good Sir retreat Into that fortress of your mind, Your resolution, call it up to guard, Your soul from timorous thoughts: Are you the man have swayed The Roman Empire four and twenty years, With that success against your foreign foes, Your very name more then your forces vanquished, To let a Traitor fright you: good my Lord Let's draw forth new battalias to the Field, Awake the Drum and Trumpet, summon up The very last Hope's of our weakened strength, against this insulting traitor; very infants Will on the sudden grow up able men, And fight in this brave quarrel.