This is the official blog of Northern Arizona slam poet Christopher Fox Graham. Begun in 2002, and transferred to blogspot in 2006, FoxTheBlog has recorded more than 670,000 hits since 2009. This blog cover's Graham's poetry, the Arizona poetry slam community and offers tips for slam poets from sources around the Internet. Read CFG's full biography here. Looking for just that one poem? You know the one ... click here to find it.
Showing posts with label Henry V. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Henry V. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 25, 2022

"We Band of Brothers," The St. Crispin's Day Speech performed by Kenneth Branagh

Kenneth Branagh performs the inspirational speech of Henry V to his men as they go forth into the Battle of Agincourt on St. Crispin's Day, Oct. 25, 1415.

The other actors in the scene are
  • Brian Blessed as Thomas Beaufort, Duke of EXETER, uncle to King Henry V. Exeter was the third son John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, and half-brother to the late Henry IV, aka Henry Bolingbroke, who was the first son of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster.
  • Paul Gregory as the Ralph Neville, 1st Earl of WESTMORELAND
  • Nicholas Ferguson as the Richard Beauchamp, 13th Earl of WARWICK (but reading lines written for Thomas Montagu, 4th Earl of SALISBURY)

from "Henry V," spoken by King Henry V of England

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

WESTMORELAND
Of fighting men they have full three score thousand.

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

SALISBURY (read by WARWICK in Branagh's 1989 film)
These are fearful odds

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

KING HENRY V
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns 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, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, 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 live this day, and see 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.
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 his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
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 England 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.