This day is called—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 friendsAnd say—to-morrow is Saint Crispian:Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,[236]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 their mouths as household words,—Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster—Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered:This story shall the good man teach his son;And Crispian Crispin 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 of England, now a-bed,Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
This day is called—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 friendsAnd say—to-morrow is Saint Crispian:Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,[236]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 their mouths as household words,—Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster—Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered:This story shall the good man teach his son;And Crispian Crispin 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 of England, now a-bed,Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.