Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1599 (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 509 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
Farewell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day. He is as full of Valour as of Kindness, Princely in both. O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England, That do no work to day. What's he that wishes so? My Cousin Westmoreland. No, my fair Cousin: If we are marked to dye, we are enough To do our Country loss: and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will, pray thee wish not one man more. By Ioue, I am not covetous for Gold, Nor care I who doth seed upon my cost: It yernes me not, if men my Garments wear; 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 i'faith, my Cousin, wish not a man from England: God's peace, I would not lose so great an Honour, As one man more me thinks would share from me, r the best hope I haue. O, doe not wish one more: Rather proclaim it (Westmoreland) through my Host, at he which hath no stomack to this fight, t him depart, his Pasport shall be made, And Crowns for Convoy put into his Purse: We would not dye in that man's company, That fears his fellowship, to dye with us. This day is called the Feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tiptoe when this day is named, And rowie 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 Crispian. Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars: 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 remembered. 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 the themselves accursed they were not here; And hold their Manhood's cheap, whiles any speaks, That fought with us upon Saint Crispines day. My Sovereign Lord, bestow yourself with speed: The French are bravely in their battles set, And will with all expedience charge on us. All things are ready, if our minds be so. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now. Thou dost not wish more help from England, Couze? God's will, my Liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this Royal battle.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T13 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day. He is as full of Valour as of Kindneſſe, Princely in both. O that we now had here But one ten thouſand of thoſe men in England, That doe no worke to day. 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, pray thee wiſh not one man more. By Ioue, I am not couetous for Gold, Nor care I who doth ſeed 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, one man more me thinkes would ſhare from me, r the beſt hope I haue. O, doe not wiſh one more: ther proclaime it (Weſtmerland) through my Hoaſt, at he which hath no ſtomack to this fight, t him depart, his Paſport ſhall be made, Ad 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 rowie 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 the ſelues accurſt they were not here; And hold their Manhoods cheape, whiles any ſpeakes, That fought with vs vpon Saint Criſpines day. My Soueraign Lord, beſtow your ſelfe with ſpeed: The French are brauely in their battailes ſet, And will with all expedience charge on vs. All things are ready, if our minds be ſo. Periſh the man, whoſe mind is backward now. Thou do'ſt not wiſh more helpe from England, Couze? Gods will, my Liege, would you and I alone, Without more helpe, could fight this Royall battaile.