[Stacy]
Where is the king?

[Steven]
The king himself is rode to view their battle.

[Stacy]
Of fighting men, they have full three score thousand!

[Steven]
There is five to one. Besides, they all are fresh.

[Stacy]
These are fearful odds!

[Steven]
O, that we now had here but one-ten-thousand of those men in England that do no work today.

[Matt]
What's he that wishes so? My cousin, Westmoreland. Rise. No, my fair cousin. If we are marked to die, we are now to do our country loss, if to live; the fewer men, the greater share of honor. I pray thee, wish not one man more. Rather, proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, that he which hath no stomach to this fight-let him depart. We would not die in that mans company that fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is called the Feast 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's." Then, will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, and say, "These wounds, I had on Crispin's Day!"

[Everyone Else]
(Cheering)

[Matt]
This story, shall the good man teach his son! And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by 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 that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. And gentlemen in England now abed 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!