Jump to content

Sidereal Wraith

Member
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Posts

    442

  • Joined

  • Last visited

 Content Type 

Posts posted by Sidereal Wraith

    Serenes Forest's Teehee Thread

    in Forum Games

    Posted

    Just now, twilitfalchion said:

    I mean, the fact that Sky characters will be included in CSIV is pretty neat. Dunno if that'll help the game's story any though.

    Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more. 

    Post Something The Above Poster Would Never Say

    in Forum Games

    Posted · Edited by Wraith

    Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;

    Or close the wall up with our English dead.

    In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

    As modest stillness and humility:

    But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

    Then imitate the action of the tiger;

    Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,

    Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;

    Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

    Let pry through the portage of the head

    Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it

    As fearfully as doth a galled rock

    O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,

    Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.

    Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,

    Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit

    To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.

    Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!

    Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,

    Have in these parts from morn till even fought

    And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:

    Dishonour not your mothers; now attest

    That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.

    Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

    And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,

    Whose limbs were made in England, show us here

    The mettle of your pasture; let us swear

    That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;

    For there is none of you so mean and base,

    That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.

    I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,

    Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:

    Follow your spirit, and upon this charge

    Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'

    Post Something The Above Poster Would Never Say

    in Forum Games

    Posted

    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 called the feast of Crispian:
    He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
    Will stand a tip-toe when the 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 Crispin’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 remember’d.
    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 remember’d;
    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 accursed they were not here,
    And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
    That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

×
×
  • Create New...