Happy Saint Crispin's Day
It's Saint Crispin's Day -- and the anniversary of the Battle of Agincourt:
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.
-- William Shakespeare, HenryV, Act 4, Scene 3
I can't help imagining John Kerry's Saint Crispin's Day speech: "Listen fellows, I have called for a summit meeting with the French leaders at Lambert Field. It would be unwise for us to act unilaterally in this situation -- it simply doesn't pass the global test. This is the wrong war, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I refuse to ask my band of brothers (none of whom, from the looks of them, makes over 2oo,ooo dollars a year, but all of whom have probably committed atrocities in a fashion reminiscent of Genghis Khan) to be the last men to die for a mistake. We haven't done good diplomacy here. So, to sum up: I have a plan, a really, really good plan . . . And now, uh, once more unto the bargaining table, dear friends!"
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.
-- William Shakespeare, HenryV, Act 4, Scene 3
I can't help imagining John Kerry's Saint Crispin's Day speech: "Listen fellows, I have called for a summit meeting with the French leaders at Lambert Field. It would be unwise for us to act unilaterally in this situation -- it simply doesn't pass the global test. This is the wrong war, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I refuse to ask my band of brothers (none of whom, from the looks of them, makes over 2oo,ooo dollars a year, but all of whom have probably committed atrocities in a fashion reminiscent of Genghis Khan) to be the last men to die for a mistake. We haven't done good diplomacy here. So, to sum up: I have a plan, a really, really good plan . . . And now, uh, once more unto the bargaining table, dear friends!"
1 Comments:
...then shall our names, familiar in his mouth as foreign words, Kerry, Chirac, Schroeder, Anan, Moore, be in the flushing toilet never remembered...
Great post, Kate.
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