Is one that accounts learning the nourishment of military virtue, and
lays that as his first foundation. He never bloodies his sword but in
heat of battle, and had rather save one of his own soldiers than kill
ten of his enemies. He accounts it an idle, vainglorious, and suspected
bounty to be full of good words; his rewarding, therefore, of the
deserver arrives so timely, that his liberality can never be said to be
gouty-handed. He holds it next his creed that no coward can be an honest
man, and dare die in it. He doth not think, his body yields a more
spreading shadow after a victory than before; and when he looks upon his
enemy's dead body 'tis a kind of noble heaviness--no insultation. He is
so honourably merciful to women in surprisal, that only that makes him
an excellent courtier. He knows the hazard of battles, not the pomp of
ceremonies, are soldiers' best theatres, and strives to gain reputation,
not by the multitude but by the greatness of his actions. He is the
first in giving the charge and the last in retiring his foot. Equal toil
he endures with the common soldier; from his examples they all take
fire, as one torch lights many. He understands in war there is no mean
to err twice, the first and last fault being sufficient to ruin an army:
faults, therefore, he pardons none; they that are precedents of disorder
or mutiny repair it by being examples of his justice. Besiege him never
so strictly, so long as the air is not cut from him, his heart faints
not. He hath learned as well to make use of a victory as to get it, and
pursuing his enemies like a whirlwind, carries all before him; being
assured if ever a man will benefit himself upon his foe, then is the
time when they have lost force, wisdom, courage, and reputation. The
goodness of his cause is the special motive to his valour; never is he
known to slight the weakest enemy that comes armed against him in the
band of justice. Hasty and overmuch heat he accounts the step-dame to
all great actions that will not suffer them to drive; if he cannot
overcome his enemy by force, he does it by time. If ever he shake hands
with war, he can die more calmly than most courtiers, for his continual
dangers have been, as it were, so many meditations of death. He thinks
not out of his own calling when he accounts life a continual warfare,
and his prayers then best become him when armed _cap-à-fie_. He utters
them like the great Hebrew general, on horseback. He casts a smiling
contempt upon calumny; it meets him as if glass should encounter
adamant. He thinks war is never to be given o'er, but on one of these
three conditions: an assured peace, absolute victory, or an honest
death. Lastly, when peace folds him up, his silver head should lean near
the golden sceptre and die in his prince's bosom.