See them quaking in their black hearts, yonder — villains that they are. Blackguards! Fearties! Bespawlers and bampots! Rogues!
My bright and bonny lads bang shields. We’re ready. Our swords are sharp. We’re fed and rested. Any man of us would give himself for the others, and gladly too. Then it comes, the word o’ God, a thunder from on high, a command that we obey:
“Knight to Rook three, man.”
And the battle is begun.