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Greatest. Call to Arms. Ever Written

IT’S CRISPIN’S DAY

those French fuckers were totally screwed… hell, I’d follow that little bastard into the halls of Hell.

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.

the full text.

Willy Shakes freakin’ rules!

From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember’d;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today 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 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.


The game:

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