We Few, We Happy Few. We Band Of Brothers

[AmishBengalFan]

 

MIXON:
Where is the Coach?

 

BURROW:
The Coach himself is rode to view their battle.

 

ANARUMO:
Of fighting men they have full three score thousand.

 

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

 

UZOMAH:
'tis a fearful odds.

 

ANARUMO:
O that we now had here but one ten thousand 
Of those men in Cincinnati that do no work to-day!

 

COACH ZAC:
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Anarumo? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enough
To do our city loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

 

God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Rather proclaim it, Anarumo, 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 see this day, and live old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispians'
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 their mouths as household words
Zac the Coach, Burrow and Hendrickson,
Chase and Higgins, Uzomah and Mixon,
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 Ohio 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!!

 

UZOMAH:
My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
The Chiefs are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience march on us.

 

ZAC:
All things are ready, if our minds be so.

 

ANARUMO:
Perish the man whose mind is backward now!

 

ZAC:
Thou dost not wish more help from Cincinnati, coz?

 

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

 

ZAC:
You know your places: God be with you all!

 

--Enter the Chiefs' Herald--

 

HERALD:
Once more I come to know of thee, Coach Zac,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow:

 

ZAC:
Who hath sent thee now?

 

HERALD:
Andy Reid

 

ZAC:
I pray thee, bear my former answer back:
Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones.

 

Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?

 

Let me speak proudly: tell Reid
We are but warriors for the working-day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim;

 

Herald, save thou thy labour;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald:
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints;
Which if they have as I shall leave of them,
Shall yield them little, tell Reid.

 

HERALD:
I shall, Coach Zac. And so fare thee well:
Thou never shalt hear herald any more.

 

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

 

ZAC:
Take it, brave McPherson.

 

Now, soldiers, march away:
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!

[Cricket]

14 minutes ago, AmishBengalFan said:

 

MIXON:
Where is the Coach?

 

BURROW:
The Coach himself is rode to view their battle.

 

ANARUMO:
Of fighting men they have full three score thousand.

 

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

 

UZOMAH:
'tis a fearful odds.

 

ANARUMO:
O that we now had here but one ten thousand 
Of those men in Cincinnati that do no work to-day!

 

COACH ZAC:
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Anarumo? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enough
To do our city loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

 

God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Rather proclaim it, Anarumo, 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 see this day, and live old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispians'
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 their mouths as household words
Zac the Coach, Burrow and Hendrickson,
Chase and Higgins, Uzomah and Mixon,
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 Ohio 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!!

 

UZOMAH:
My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
The Chiefs are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience march on us.

 

ZAC:
All things are ready, if our minds be so.

 

ANARUMO:
Perish the man whose mind is backward now!

 

ZAC:
Thou dost not wish more help from Cincinnati, coz?

 

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

 

ZAC:
You know your places: God be with you all!

 

--Enter the Chiefs' Herald--

 

HERALD:
Once more I come to know of thee, Coach Zac,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow:

 

ZAC:
Who hath sent thee now?

 

HERALD:
Andy Reid

 

ZAC:
I pray thee, bear my former answer back:
Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones.

 

Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?

 

Let me speak proudly: tell Reid
We are but warriors for the working-day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim;

 

Herald, save thou thy labour;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald:
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints;
Which if they have as I shall leave of them,
Shall yield them little, tell Reid.

 

HERALD:
I shall, Coach Zac. And so fare thee well:
Thou never shalt hear herald any more.

 

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

 

ZAC:
Take it, brave McPherson.

 

Now, soldiers, march away:
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!

Okay, so that got ME fired up.  Bad back, arthritis, and 67 years behind me, I am ready to take over at right guard…all 5’ 8” and 180 pounds of me.  🦗

 

 

[AmishBengalFan]

16 minutes ago, Cricket said:

Okay, so that got ME fired up.  Bad back, arthritis, and 67 years behind me, I am ready to take over at right guard…all 5’ 8” and 180 pounds of me.  🦗

 

 

Yeah.... when I watch the film and Branagh finishes his speech, I start looking around for a Frenchman to punch.