Saint Crispian's Day

Day 1,068, 22:58 • Published in New Zealand USA • by Necros Xiaoban

Dear New Zealand,

Today over one hundred Serbian nationals launched an attack on our fair Isles. The Serbian Ministry of Information has called upon all Serbs to join together in the political take over of New Zealand.

I have seen my fellow countrymen downtrodden and downcast. They have said to me, oh that we now had here but fifty of those men in abroad that do not block today!

What's he that wishes so?
My brother kiwi? No, my fair brother;
If we are meant to lose, we are and now
To do our country loss; and if to win,
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
Dio's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Fio, I am not hungry for gold,
Nor care I who must eat at my expense;
It concerns me not if men my tickets use;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, my brother, wish not a man from EDEN.
Dio's peace! I would not lose so great an honor
As one man more would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, brother, through the nation,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; for him citizenship will be found,
And tickets put into his hand;
We would not lose in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to lose with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And will arouse at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil meet his neighbours,
And say 'Tomorrow 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-
Myles the PM, Bass and Fionia,
Necros and Costello, de Veux and Othere-
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 today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen abrod now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day