O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men!
Aug 30, 2014, 9:56 PM
Richt. What’s he that wishes so? My cousin Pruitt? 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.
Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words- Richt the King, Hutson and Andrews, Bellamy and Brown, Carter and Rome- Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red. This story shall the good man teach his son; And Chubb Marshal 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 the SEC 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 Gurley day.
Salute you the vanquished and may you hold this bitter day dear in this toast to your greatness!