1    Where is the king?

2    The king himself is rode to view their battle.

3    Of fighting men they have full three score thousand.

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

5    God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds.
6    God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge:
7    If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,
8    Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,
9    My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,
10   And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu!

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

12   Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day:
13   And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,
14   For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour.

15   He is full of valour as of kindness;
16   Princely in both.

17   O that we now had here
18   But one ten thousand of those men in England
19   That do no work to-day!

20   What's he that wishes so?
21   My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
22   If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
23   To do our country loss; and if to live,
24   The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
25   God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
26   By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
27   Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
28   It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
29   Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
30   But if it be a sin to covet honour,
31   I am the most offending soul alive.
32   No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
33   God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
34   As one man more, methinks, would share from me
35   For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
36   Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
37   That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
38   Let him depart; his passport shall be made
39   And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
40   We would not die in that man's company
41   That fears his fellowship to die with us.
42   This day is called the feast of Crispian:
43   He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
44   Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
45   And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
46   He that shall live this day, and see old age,
47   Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
48   And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'
49   Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
50   And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
51   Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
52   But he'll remember with advantages
53   What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
54   Familiar in his mouth as household words
55   Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
56   Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
57   Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
58   This story shall the good man teach his son;
59   And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
60   From this day to the ending of the world,
61   But we in it shall be remember'd;
62   We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
63   For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
64   Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
65   This day shall gentle his condition:
66   And gentlemen in England now a-bed
67   Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
68   And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
69   That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

70   My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
71   The French are bravely in their battles set,
72   And will with all expedience charge on us.

73   All things are ready, if our minds be so.

74   Perish the man whose mind is backward now!

75   Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?

76   God's will! my liege, would you and I alone,
77   Without more help, could fight this royal battle!

78   Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men;
79   Which likes me better than to wish us one.
80   You know your places: God be with you all!

81   Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry,
82   If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
83   Before thy most assured overthrow:
84   For certainly thou art so near the gulf,
85   Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy,
86   The constable desires thee thou wilt mind
87   Thy followers of repentance; that their souls
88   May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
89   From off these fields, where, wretches, their poor bodies
90   Must lie and fester.

91   Who hath sent thee now?

92   The Constable of France.

93   I pray thee, bear my former answer back:
94   Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones.
95   Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?
96   The man that once did sell the lion's skin
97   While the beast lived, was killed with hunting him.
98   A many of our bodies shall no doubt
99   Find native graves; upon the which, I trust,
100  Shall witness live in brass of this day's work:
101  And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
102  Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
103  They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet them,
104  And draw their honours reeking up to heaven;
105  Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
106  The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
107  Mark then abounding valour in our English,
108  That being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,
109  Break out into a second course of mischief,
110  Killing in relapse of mortality.
111  Let me speak proudly: tell the constable
112  We are but warriors for the working-day;
113  Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
114  With rainy marching in the painful field;
115  There's not a piece of feather in our host--
116  Good argument, I hope, we will not fly--
117  And time hath worn us into slovenry:
118  But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim;
119  And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night
120  They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck
121  The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads
122  And turn them out of service. If they do this,--
123  As, if God please, they shall,--my ransom then
124  Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour;
125  Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald:
126  They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints;
127  Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
128  Shall yield them little, tell the constable.

129  I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
130  Thou never shalt hear herald any more.

131  I fear thou'lt once more come again for ransom.

132  My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
133  The leading of the vaward.

134  Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away:
135  And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!