William Shakespeare

King Henry V

Act IV, Scene III

Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham, with all his host: Salisbury and Westmoreland.

Gloucester

Where is the king?

Bedford

The king himself is rode to view their battle.

Westmoreland

Of fighting men they have full three score thousand.

Exeter

There's five to one; besides they all are fresh.

Salisbury

God's arm stikes with us! `tis a fearful odds.

God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge:

If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,

Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,

My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,

And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu!

Bedford

Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!

Exeter

Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day:

And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it.

For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour.

Exit Salisbury.

Bedford

He is as full of valour as of kindness;

Princely in both.

Westmoreland

O that we now had here

But one ten thousand of those men in England

That do no work to-day!

King Henry

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;

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 has 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 call'd the feast of Crispian:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-toe when this 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 sleave 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 remembered;

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 Crispian's day.

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