Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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King. As one man more me thinkes would share from me,
King. For the best hope I haue. O, doe not wish one more:
King. Rather proclaime it (Westmerland) through my Hoast,
King. That he which hath no stomack to this fight,
King. Let him depart, his Pasport shall be made,
King. And Crownes for Conuoy put into his Purse:
King. We would not dye in that mans companie,
King. That feares his fellowship, to dye with vs.
King. This day is call'd the Feast of Crispian:
King. He that out-liues this day, and comes safe home,
King. Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
King. And rowse him at the Name of Crispian.
King. He that shall see this day, and liue old age,
King. Will yeerely on the Vigil feast his neighbours,
King. And say, to morrow is Saint Crispian.
King. Then will he strip his sleeue, and shew his skarres:
King. Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot:
King. But hee'le remember, with aduantages,
King. What feats he did that day. Then shall our Names,
King. Familiar in his mouth as household words,