Sergeant monologue — Wallenstein's Camp: A Play

In Fortune's ship, with an onward gale, My friend, you have made up your mind to sail. The earth-ball is open before you--yet there Naught's to be gained, but by those who dare. Stupid and sluggish your citizen's found, Like a dyer's dull jade, in his ceaseless round, While the soldier can be whatever he will, For war o'er the earth is the watchword still. Just look now at me, and the coat I wear, You see that the emperor's baton I bear-- And all good government, over the earth, You must know from the baton alone has birth; For the sceptre that's swayed by the kingly hand Is naught but a baton, we understand. And he who has corporal's rank obtained, Stands on the ladder where all's to be gained, And you, like another, may mount to that height--