Saint Crispin's Day
Henry V, Act IV, Scene III
...Enter the KING
WESTMORELAND
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England That do no work to-day!
KING HENRY V
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater
share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my
garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
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 host, That he which 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.
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, And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil
feast his neighbours, 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 What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words Harry the king, Bedford and
Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, Be in their
flowing cups freshly remember'd.
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 remember'd; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; 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 accursed they were not here, And hold their
manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint
Crispin's day.
...Enter the KING
WESTMORELAND
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England That do no work to-day!
KING HENRY V
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater
share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my
garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
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 host, That he which 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.
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, And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil
feast his neighbours, 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 What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words Harry the king, Bedford and
Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, Be in their
flowing cups freshly remember'd.
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 remember'd; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; 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 accursed they were not here, And hold their
manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint
Crispin's day.