First Cuirassier monologue — Wallenstein's Camp: A Play

Why, brother, the blessed God above Can't have from us all an equal love. One prays for the sun, at which t'other will fret One is for dry weather-t'other for wet. What you, now, regard as with misery rife, Is to me the unclouded sun of life. If 'tis at the cost of the burgher and boor, I really am sorry that they must endure; But how can I help it? Here, you must know, 'Tis just like a cavalry charge 'gainst the foe: The steeds loud snorting, and on they go! Whoever may lie in the mid-career-- Be it my brother or son so dear, Should his dying groan my heart divide, Yet over his body I needs must ride, Nor pitying stop to drag him aside.