Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen,

4.6.22486But all's not done. Yet keep the French the field.

The Duke of York commends him to your majesty.

Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour

4.6.52489I saw him down, thrice up again and fighting.

4.6.62490From helmet to the spur all blood he was.

In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie,

4.6.82492Larding the plain. And by his bloody side,

4.6.92493Yoke-fellow to his honor-owing wounds,

4.6.102494The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.

4.6.112495Suffolk first died, and York, all haggled over,

4.6.122496Comes to him where in gore he lay insteeped,

4.6.132497And takes him by the beard, kisses the gashes

4.6.142498That bloodily did yawn upon his face.

4.6.152499He cries aloud, "Tarry, my cousin Suffolk.

4.6.162500My soul shall thine keep company to heaven.

4.6.172501Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,

4.6.182502As in this glorious and well-foughten field

4.6.192503We kept together in our chivalry."

4.6.202504Upon these words I came and cheered him up.

4.6.212505He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand,

4.6.222506And with a feeble grip says, "Dear my lord,

4.6.232507Commend my service to my sovereign."

4.6.242508So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck

4.6.252509He threw his wounded arm, and kissed his lips,

4.6.262510And so espoused to death, with blood he sealed

4.6.272511A testament of noble-ending love.

4.6.282512The pretty and sweet manner of it forced

4.6.292513Those waters from me which I would have stopped,

4.6.302514But I had not so much of man in me,

4.6.312515And all my mother came into mine eyes

4.6.322516And gave me up to tears.

And gave me up to tears. I blame you not,

4.6.332518For hearing this I must perforce compound

4.6.342519With mixtful eyes, or they will issue too.

4.6.352520But hark, what new alarum is this same?

4.6.362521The French have reinforced their scattered men.

4.6.372522Then every soldier kill his prisoners.

4.6.382523Give the word through.