Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Henry V (Modern, Folio)
  • Editor: James D. Mardock
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-409-7

    Copyright James D. Mardock. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: James D. Mardock
    Peer Reviewed

    Henry V (Modern, Folio)

    Enter the King and all his train before the gates.
    1260King Henry
    How yet resolves the governor of the town?
    This is the latest parle we will admit,
    Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves,
    Or like to men proud of destruction
    Defy us to our worst; for as I am a soldier,
    1265A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,
    If I begin the batt'ry once again,
    I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur
    Till in her ashes she lie burièd.
    The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,
    1270And the fleshed soldier, rough and hard of heart,
    In liberty of bloody hand shall range
    With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass
    Your fresh fair virgins and your flow'ring infants.
    What is it then to me if impious war,
    1275Arrayed in flames like to the prince of fiends,
    Do with his smirched complexion all fell feats
    Enlinked to waste and desolation?
    What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
    If your pure maidens fall into the hand
    1280Of hot and forcing violation?
    What rein can hold licentious wickedness
    When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
    We may as bootless spend our vain command
    Upon th'enragèd soldiers in their spoil
    1285As send precepts to the leviathan
    To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
    Take pity of your town and of your people
    Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command,
    Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
    1290O'er-blows the filthy and contagious clouds
    Of headly murder, spoil, and villainy.
    If not, why in a moment look to see
    The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
    Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters,
    1295Your fathers taken by the silver beards
    And their most reverend heads dashed to the walls,
    Your naked infants spitted upon pikes
    Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused
    Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
    1300At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen.
    What say you? Will you yield and this avoid,
    Or, guilty in defense, be thus destroyed?
    Enter Governor.
    Our expectation hath this day an end:
    1305The dauphin, whom of succors we entreated,
    Returns us that his powers are yet not ready
    To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great king,
    We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.
    Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours,
    1310For we no longer are defensible.
    King Henry
    Open your gates. --
    [Exit Governor.]
    Come, uncle Exeter,
    Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain
    And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French.
    Use mercy to them all for us, dear uncle.
    1315The winter coming on and sickness growing
    Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais.
    Tonight in Harfleur will we be your guest;
    Tomorrow for the march are we addressed.
    Flourish, and [the English] enter the town.