Zina's Speech -- We Few, We Happy Few, We Circle of Sisters
Here is a hearty herald from Queen Zina to her fearless hoard of women warriors encouraging them to battle on "Queen Zina's Day":
... first in Ukraine and then beyond.
But if there be a cold and timid soul
who hoards her crowns for convoy,
She should depart; and skip the toll,
For reluctant coins we shan't employ.
We few, we happy few, we Circle of Sisters;
Soon all will know who study our story
The fuller the circle, the greater the glory.
And she to-day who joins the ShopO corps,
Shall be my sister evermore.
And gentle ladies at home now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And with their dusty duckets sleep whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Queen Zina's day.
The Original Version
The English Camp on St. Crispin's Day Speech from Henry V: Act 4, Scene 3
GLOUCESTER. Where is the king?
BEDFORD. The king himself is rode to view their battle.
WESTMORELAND. Of fighting men they have full three score thousand.
EXETER. There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh.
SALISBURY. […] 'tis a fearful odds.[…]
WESTMORLAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin, Westmorland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enough
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.
[…]
Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, 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 call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
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 rememb'red.
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 rememberèd—
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 accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
SALISBURY. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
The French are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience charge on us.
KING HENRY V. All things are ready, if our minds be so.
WESTMORELAND. Perish the man whose mind is backward now!
KING HENRY V. Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
WESTMORELAND. God's will! my liege, would you and I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
KING HENRY V. […] You know your places: God be with you all!
MONTJOY. Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow:[…]
KING HENRY V. Who hath sent thee now?
MONTJOY. The Constable of France.
KING HENRY V. 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 the constable
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 will leave 'em them,
Shall yield them little, tell the constable.
MONTJOY. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
Thou never shalt hear herald any more.
YORK. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
The leading of the vaward.
KING HENRY V. Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away:
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!
