Tenez101
Banned
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-yZNMWFqvM
Freebird: Where is the king?
Maximagq: The king himself is rode to view their battle.
T-Noone: Of fighting men they have full three score thousand.
F1Bob: That's five to one; besides, they all are fresh.
Djokovic2011: 'Tis a fearful odds.
T-Noone: O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those so-called Novak fans
That do no work to-day!
King Novak: What's he that wishes so?
My cousin T-Noone? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our fandom loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Rather proclaim it, T-Noone, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Roland Garros:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Roland Garros.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Roland Garros:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Roland Garros's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in their mouths as household words
Nole the king, Maximagq and F1Bob, 5555 and Chanwan,
T-Noone and TeamOB, Djokovic2011 and Freebird,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Roland Garros shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And false Novak fans now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Roland Garros's day!
Cheers. Enter TeamOB
TeamOB: My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
The Nadal fans are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience march upon us!
King Novak: All things are ready, if our minds be so.
T-Noone: Perish the man whose mind is not with thou!
King Novak: Thou dost not wish more help from the Brotherhood, coz?
T-Noone: God's will! my liege, would you and I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
King Novak: You know your places: God be with you all!
Cheers. Enter messenger from the Nadal camp
6-1 6-3 6-0: Once more I come to know of thee, King Nole,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow.
King Novak: Who hath sent thee now?
6-1 6-3 6-0: The Tio of Nadal.
King Novak: I pray thee, bear my former answer back:
Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones.
Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?
Let me speak proudly: tell the Tio
We are but warriors for the working-day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim!
Herald, save thou thy labour;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald:
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints!
Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
Shall yield them little, tell the Tio.
6-1 6-3 6-0: I shall, King Nole. And so fare thee well:
Thou never shalt hear herald any more.
Exit
xFedal: My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
The leading of the vaward.
King Novak: Take it, brave xFedal. Now, soldiers, march away:
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!
(Sorry for any true Novak fans I forgot! These were only the first few that came to mind.)
Freebird: Where is the king?
Maximagq: The king himself is rode to view their battle.
T-Noone: Of fighting men they have full three score thousand.
F1Bob: That's five to one; besides, they all are fresh.
Djokovic2011: 'Tis a fearful odds.
T-Noone: O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those so-called Novak fans
That do no work to-day!
King Novak: What's he that wishes so?
My cousin T-Noone? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our fandom loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Rather proclaim it, T-Noone, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Roland Garros:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Roland Garros.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Roland Garros:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Roland Garros's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in their mouths as household words
Nole the king, Maximagq and F1Bob, 5555 and Chanwan,
T-Noone and TeamOB, Djokovic2011 and Freebird,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Roland Garros shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And false Novak fans now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Roland Garros's day!
Cheers. Enter TeamOB
TeamOB: My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
The Nadal fans are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience march upon us!
King Novak: All things are ready, if our minds be so.
T-Noone: Perish the man whose mind is not with thou!
King Novak: Thou dost not wish more help from the Brotherhood, coz?
T-Noone: God's will! my liege, would you and I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
King Novak: You know your places: God be with you all!
Cheers. Enter messenger from the Nadal camp
6-1 6-3 6-0: Once more I come to know of thee, King Nole,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow.
King Novak: Who hath sent thee now?
6-1 6-3 6-0: The Tio of Nadal.
King Novak: I pray thee, bear my former answer back:
Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones.
Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?
Let me speak proudly: tell the Tio
We are but warriors for the working-day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim!
Herald, save thou thy labour;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald:
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints!
Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
Shall yield them little, tell the Tio.
6-1 6-3 6-0: I shall, King Nole. And so fare thee well:
Thou never shalt hear herald any more.
Exit
xFedal: My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
The leading of the vaward.
King Novak: Take it, brave xFedal. Now, soldiers, march away:
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!
(Sorry for any true Novak fans I forgot! These were only the first few that came to mind.)
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