If we are markd to die, we are enow To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. Gods will! I pray thee, wish not one man more... If it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive... Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart... We would not die in that mans company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is called the feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named... Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot, But hell remember with advantages What feats he did that day... And Crispin Crispian shall neer go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be rememberd; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he neer so vile, This day shall gentle his condition: And gentlemen in England now a-bed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispins day.
Posted on: Sat, 25 Oct 2014 19:07:42 +0000
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