Today is the Anniversary of the Battle of Agincourt, one of the most important battles of the Hundred Years War.   Of course since there were no women, Hispanics, lesbians, blacks or other oppressed minorities, not much is mentioned about this battle today, but it was a major turning point in European history.  And of course, it inspired one of my favorite motivational speeches of all time.

St. Crispen's Day Speech
William Shakespeare, 1599
                                  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.