Once more unto the breach, my friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our offline shells!
In peace there's nothing so becomes a mech
As modest stillness and humility.
But when the blast of war sounds in our receivers,
Then imitate the action of the Predecons;
Stiffen the servos, hard-cycle the coolant,
Disguise fair protocol with a hard-hitting rage.
Then lend the optic a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the plating of the helm
Like a fusion cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a rusted tow'r
O'erhang and jutty its condemned foundation,
Slashed by the wild and wasteful gunfire.
Now set the dent's, and stretch the air-vents wide,
O'rclock the pistons and power up every spark
To its full light. On, on, you noblest Autobots,
Whose programming is fet from founders of war-proof!
Founders that, like so many Primes,
Have in these states from vorn to evorn fought
And stowed their guns for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your heritage! Now attest
That those whom you call'd creators did construct you.
Be copy now to mechs of grosser build
And teach them how to war! And you, good minibots,
Whose limbs were forged in Iacon, show us here
The mettle of your class; and let us swear
That you are worth your training; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so sharp and short
That hath not noble lustre in your gaze.
I see you stand like turbofoxes in the slip
Straining upon the start. The enemy's airborne:
Follow your spark, and upon this charge
Cry Primus for the Prime, Cybertron, and the 13!'