We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.įor he to-day that sheds his blood with me
This story shall the good man teach his son,įrom this day to the ending of the world, I think the king is but a man, as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me.Įvery subject’s duty is the king’s, but every subject’s soul is his own. That’s a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion. Or close the wall up with our English dead.Ĭry ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’ Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, The vasty fields of France? or may we cram And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
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