The Same. Before the Gates of Harfleur. |
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The Governor and some Citizens on the walls; the English forces below. Enter KING HENRY and his Train. |
K. Hen. 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,— |
A name that in my thoughts, becomes me best,— |
If I begin the battery once again, |
I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur |
Till in her ashes she lie buried. |
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, |
And the flesh'd 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 flowering infants. |
What is it then to me, if impious war, |
Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends, |
Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats |
Enlink'd to waste and desolation? |
What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause, |
If your pure maidens fall into the hand |
Of 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 the enraged soldiers in their spoil |
As 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 |
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds |
Of heady murder, spoil, and villany. |
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; |
Your fathers taken by the silver beards, |
And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls; |
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, |
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd |
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry |
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. |
What say you? will you yield, and this avoid? |
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd? |
Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end. |
The Dauphin, whom of succour 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; |
For we no longer are defensible. |
K. Hen. Open your gates! 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, |
The winter coming on and sickness growing |
Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais. |
To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest; |
To-morrow for the march are we addrest. [Flourish. KING HENRY and his Train enter the town. |
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