'Tis true our Province faces heavy odds: Of regulars but fifteen hundred men To guard a frontier of a thousand miles; Of volunteers what aidance we can draw From seventy thousand widely scattered souls. A meagre showing 'gainst the enemy's If numbers be the test. But odds lie not In numbers only, but in spirit too-- Witness the might of England's little isle! And what made England great will keep her so-- The free soul and the valour of her sons; And what exalts her will sustain you now If you contain her courage and her faith. So not the odds so much are to be feared As private disaffection, treachery-- Those openers of the door to enemies-- And the poor crouching spirit that gives way Ere it is forced to yield. (ROBINSON: No fear of that!) I trust there is not; yet I speak of it As what is to be feared more than the odds. For like to forests are communities-- Fair at a distance, entering you find The rubbish and the underbrush of states, 'Tis ever the mean soul that counts the odds, And, where you find this spirit, pluck it up-- 'Tis full of mischief.

Brock Monologue from Tecumseh : a Drama

Rehearse Brock's monologue