If we are mark’d to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he who 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.