Const. They haue said their prayers, And they stay for death

Dolph. Shall we goe send them Dinners, and fresh Sutes, And giue their fasting Horses Prouender, And after fight with them? Const. I stay but for my Guard: on To the field, I will the Banner from a Trumpet take, And vse it for my haste. Come, come away, The Sunne is high, and we out-weare the day.


Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his Hoast: Salisbury, and Westmerland.

Glouc. Where is the King? Bedf. The King himselfe is rode to view their Battaile

West. Of fighting men they haue full threescore thousand

Exe. There's fiue to one, besides they all are fresh

Salisb. Gods Arme strike with vs, 'tis a fearefull oddes. God buy' you Princes all; Ile to my Charge: If we no more meet, till we meet in Heauen; Then ioyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford, My deare Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, And my kind Kinsman, Warriors all, adieu

Bedf. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee: And yet I doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it, For thou art fram'd of the firme truth of valour

Exe. Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day

Bedf. He is as full of Valour as of Kindnesse, Princely in both. Enter the King.

West. O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England, That doe no worke to day

King. What's he that wishes so? My Cousin Westmerland. No, my faire Cousin: If we are markt to dye, we are enow To doe our Countrey losse: and if to liue, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. Gods will, I pray thee wish not one man more. By Ioue, I am not couetous for Gold, Nor care I who doth feed vpon my cost: It yernes me not, if men my Garments weare; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sinne to couet Honor, I am the most offending Soule aliue. No 'faith, my Couze, wish not a man from England: Gods peace, I would not loose so great an Honor, As one man more me thinkes would share from me, For the best hope I haue. O, doe not wish one more: Rather proclaime it (Westmerland) through my Hoast, That he which hath no stomack to this fight, Let him depart, his Pasport shall be made, And Crownes for Conuoy put into his Purse: We would not dye in that mans companie, That feares his fellowship, to dye with vs. This day is call'd the Feast of Crispian: He that out-liues this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, And rowse him at the Name of Crispian. He that shall see this day, and liue old age, Will yeerely on the Vigil feast his neighbours, And say, to morrow is Saint Crispian. Then will he strip his sleeue, and shew his skarres: Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot: But hee'le remember, with aduantages, 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 remembred. This story shall the good man teach his sonne: And Crispine Crispian shall ne're goe by, From this day to the ending of the World, But we in it shall be remembred; 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're so vile, This day shall gentle his Condition. And Gentlemen in England, now a bed, Shall thinke themselues accurst they were not here; And hold their Manhoods cheape, whiles any speakes, That fought with vs vpon Saint Crispines day. Enter Salisbury.

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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