Alarums. Enter King Henry and forces, Exeter, and others
Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen: But all's not done; yet keep the French the field.
Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this hour I saw him down; thrice up again and fighting; From helmet to the spur all blood he was.
In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie, Larding the plain; and by his bloody side, Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds, The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies. Suffolk first died: and York, all haggled over, Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd, And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes That bloodily did spawn upon his face; And cries aloud 'Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk! My soul shall thine keep company to heaven; Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast, As in this glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our chivalry!' Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up: He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand, And, with a feeble gripe, says 'Dear my lord, Commend my service to me sovereign.' So did he turn and over Suffolk's neck He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips; And so espoused to death, with blood he seal'd A testament of noble-ending love. The pretty and sweet manner of it forced Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd; But I had not so much of man in me, And all my mother came into mine eyes And gave me up to tears.
I blame you not; For, hearing this, I must perforce compound With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.
But, hark! what new alarum is this same? The French have reinforced their scatter'd men: Then every soldier kill his prisoners: Give the word through.