Act 4, Scene 6 — Henry V — Study Shakespeare

The argument During the battle, Exeter reports the deaths of York and Suffolk, Henry permits himself tears, then orders all prisoners killed when the French rally again.

Alarum. Enter King Henry and his train, with prisoners.

KING HENRY ≋ verse

Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen.

But all’s not done; yet keep the French the field.

Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen. But all’s not done; yet keep the French the field.

Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen. But all’s not

EXETER

The Duke of York commends him to your Majesty.

KING HENRY ≋ verse

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.

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.

Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour I saw him down

EXETER ≋ verse

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 insteeped,

And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes

That bloodily did yawn upon his face.

He cries aloud, “Tarry, my 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 smil’d me in the face, raught me his hand,

And, with a feeble gripe, says, “Dear my lord,

Commend my service to my sovereign.”

So did he turn and over Suffolk’s neck

He threw his wounded arm and kiss’d his lips;

And so espous’d to death, with blood he seal’d

A testament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forc’d

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.

In which array, brave soldier, does 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 insteeped, And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes That bloodily did yawn upon his face. He cries aloud, “Tarry, my cousin Suffolk! My soul shall yours 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 smil’d me in the face, raught me his hand, And, with a feeble gripe, says, “Dear my lord, Commend my service to my sovereign.” So did he turn and over Suffolk’s neck He threw his wounded arm and kiss’d his lips; And so espous’d to death, with blood he seal’d A testament of noble-ending love. The pretty and sweet manner of it forc’d 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.

In which array, brave soldier, does he lie, Larding the plain; and by h's bloody side, Yoke-fellow to h's 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 insteeped, And takes him by the beard; k'sses the gashes That bloodily did yawn upon h's face. He cries aloud, “Tarry, my cousin Suffolk! My soul shall yours keep company to heaven; Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast, As in th's glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our chivalry.” Upon these words I came and cheer’d him up. He smil’d me in the face, raught me h's hand, And, with a feeble gripe, says, “Dear my lord, Commend my service to my sovereign.” So did he turn and over Suffolk’s neck He threw h's wounded arm and k'ss’d h's lips; And so espous’d to death, with blood he seal’d A testament of noble-ending love. The pretty and sweet manner of it forc’d 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.

in which array, brave soldier, does he lie, larding the plain; and by his bloody

"kisses the gashes / That bloodily did yawn upon his face" One of the most intimate images of battlefield grief in Shakespeare — York kissing not Suffolk's lips but the wounds themselves, as if honoring the cause of death.

Why it matters Exeter's speech about York and Suffolk is the play's most tender portrait of male friendship and honor — the bonds Henry promised in the Crispin speech made visible in how these two men died together.

↩ Callback to 4-3 York and Suffolk's deaths fulfill Henry's promise in the Crispin speech — 'he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.' The two men who flew 'abreast' to heaven are the literal embodiment of that brotherhood.

KING HENRY ≋ verse

I blame you not;

For, hearing this, I must perforce compound

With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.

I blame you not; For, hearing this, I must perforce compound With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.

I blame you not; For, hearing this, I must perforce compound

🎭 Dramatic irony Henry admits his eyes are 'misting' for York and Suffolk — the same king who, in the Ceremony soliloquy of 4-1, lamented that kingship denied him ordinary peace. Here he is allowed grief, briefly, before duty recalls him. The audience sees both men at once.

[_Alarum._]

But hark! what new alarum is this same?

The French have reinforc’d their scatter’d men.

Then every soldier kill his prisoners;

Give the word through.

[_Exeunt._]

The Reckoning

The briefest and most emotionally complex scene in Act 4. Henry almost weeps hearing about York and Suffolk's deaths — the human king visible for a moment beneath the warrior king. Then an alarum sounds, the French are regrouping, and Henry snaps back into command and gives the most morally troubling order in the play: kill all the prisoners. The scene moves in forty seconds from tenderness to brutality, which is exactly what war requires.

If this happened today…

A CEO pauses in the middle of a crisis call to be genuinely moved by news that two trusted colleagues were lost in the process. For thirty seconds, everyone on the call sees the human being. Then another alarm comes in — everything's about to collapse — and he's back: cold, fast, ruthless. Whatever he just felt has to be suspended. The call goes on.

Continue to 4.7 →