Rally Post!! (because some days I need one)

If we are marked to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
Gods will! I prey the, 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,
Then 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 honor
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 has 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 out lives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this 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 neighbors,
and say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeves and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s Day.’
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he will 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 his flowing cup freshly remembered.
This lesson shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispain 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 today who sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he near so vile,
this day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheep
whilst any speaks
that fought with us
upon St. Crispins day.

-Henery V, Act 4, Scene 3