What Does the St. Crispin’s Day Speech Mean to Me?
Today is October 25 again.
One day either in the late summer of 2008 or 2009, I was looking up speeches by Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings a the Harvard Hotel at Harvard Square. One of the recommended videos was a video by Kenneth Branagh in his Henry V. Branagh’s magical rendition of the Bard’s words made my 15 or 16-year-old self fall in love with the play. By September, I was enamored and could recite half of the play from memory.
I would annoy my buddy Willis in early fall in Texas by keeping on mentioning the words from the actor who played Gilderoy Lockhart in another movie.
As time progressed, I made a name among certain friends for being able to recite Shakespeare from memory for hours on end. Back in that day, people would mention a one “Harold Bloom” to me. Little did I know that ten years after 2010 that Bloom would become a hero. At that time, I mixed up Alan Bloom and Harold Bloom — which as I have also found out is a common misconception to some degree.
When I took a Shakespeare class in college, our professors and teaching assistants were at least seemingly enthusiastic to see how much I could recite old Bill Shakespeare’s words. The truth is that Shakespeare has been a love of mine since the beginning. I played Puck as a child in elementary school in the gymnasium some ten years or more before 2010…
In 2013 I made good friends with a man who would later become a judge through reciting Shakespeare’s Henry V. He later became my “sire” for swearing me into the bar.
Here is part of the St. Crispin’s Day Speech:
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.
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, 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.
As fate could have it, I can go a bit beyond this as well. I think it’s a magical play. The question is, did Henry V lie to his troops? Yes, it’s a good speech, ut would they receive more egalitarian rights and be his brother? Perhaps brotherhood isn’t about gaining rights but seeing seen as something close whereby shared experiences build a bond of kindship like those of a family. In the end, Shakespeare is a great bond. When you find someone who can share in his magical words, be it, Harold Bloom, a friend who would later become a judge, a show that quotes “if music be the food of love, sing on, song on,” you suddenly enter the world of where emotions were once created and ultimately we are all “sired” by that wonderful bard.
Here is a video of me arguably being a bit flippant or silly, but at the same time Shakespeare plays engender this type of playfulness:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWiSTuUB8X0&list=UU3vjbkbUN5W9Iw5GMrgSYxw&index=75
© Charles Edward Andrew Lincoln IV
© Charles Edward Andrew Lincoln IV
© Charles Edward Andrew Lincoln IV
© Charles Edward Andrew Lincoln IV
© Charles Edward Andrew Lincoln IV
