Happy St. Crispin's Day

Happy St. Crispin's Day

This day is called the Feast of St. Crispian...

St. Crispin's Day Is Today

 

Once again, celebrating The Feast of St. Crispin, this time in the Year of Our Lord 2024. Last year I considered celebrating the Feast aspect. Not sure. Perhaps a Succulent Chinese Meal is in order. Probably not.

Now, soldiers, march away: And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day.

Happy Feast of St. Crispin!

 

You know, St. Crispin's Day is also referred to as The Feast of St. Crispin. I've never considered the feast aspect. Probably won't do it. My heart isn't in it.

St. Crispin's Day

 Today is the feast of St. Crispin.

Happy St. Crispin's Day

 

St. Crispin's Day

It's that time of year again. Today is the day when we all hold our manhood's cheap.



Every day is St. Crispin's Day for me.

Happy St. Crispin's Day

About this time every year people are probably looking forward to the bigger holiday that happens next week (Reformation Day). But we shouldn't overlook St. Crispin's Day. St. Crispin's Day is the day wear we all appreciate Brian Blessed's chainmail fashion and mourn the loss of Davy Gam.

St. Crispin's Day

Ahh October 25th is here again. 'Tis the season for holding your manhood cheap and the time to appreciate Brian Blessed in chainmail. And all things are ready if our minds be so.

St. Crispin's Day

Today, October 25th is St. Crispin's Day.

At the end of "This is Spinal Tap", Michael McKean makes the joke that there was a St. Hubbins. "What was he the saint of?"

"He was the patron saint of quality footwear."

It's a funny concept and a good line but the odd thing is that it's not that ridiculous. Today is St. Crispin's Day which celebrates St. Crispin (obviously). What was he the patron saint of? Cobblers (shoemakers).

But never mind that silliness, he ought to be the patron saint of awesome speeches.

"

WESTMORELAND.

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 Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin.

If we are mark'd to die, we are enow

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, Westmoreland, 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 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 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 Crispian'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 remembered,

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.

"

Davy Gam...

[Enter the KING]

WESTMORELAND. 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 Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
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, Westmoreland, 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 Crispian'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 remembered-
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.