Page 1694 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England. [30]
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me

For the best hope I have. O do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my lost,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight, [35]
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 call’d the Feast of Crispian: [40]

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day, and live old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, [45]
And say, “To-morrow is Saint Crispian”.
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say, “These wounds I had on Crispin’s day”

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember with advantages [50]
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as housebold words,

Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d. [55]
This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd −
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers: [60]

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 gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, [65]
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speak