Original
Modern English
Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen: But all’s not done; yet keep the French the field.
We’ve done well, my brave countrymen: But it’s not over yet; the French still hold the field.
The Duke of York commends him to your majesty.
The Duke of York sends his regards to your majesty.
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.
Is he alive, good uncle? I saw him fall three times in the last hour, But each time he got back up and kept fighting; His whole body was covered in blood, from head to toe.
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.
In that condition, brave soldier, he lies, Lying across the field in the blood, And by his bloody side, The noble Earl of Suffolk lies as well. Suffolk died first, and York, all covered in blood, Came to him, where he lay drenched in blood, And grabbed him by the beard; kissed the wounds That had gushed blood onto his face; And shouted, ‘Wait, dear cousin Suffolk! My soul will accompany yours to heaven; Wait, sweet soul, so mine can follow close behind, Just like we stayed together in this glorious, well-fought field We fought side by side in our chivalry!’ At these words, I came and cheered him up: He smiled at me, reached out his hand, And, with a weak grip, said, ‘Dear lord, Tell my king I’ve served him well.’ Then he turned and, over Suffolk’s neck, Threw his wounded arm and kissed his lips; And so, bound to death, with blood he sealed A testament of noble, loving loyalty. The sweet, tender way he did it brought Tears to my eyes that I couldn’t hold back; But I wasn’t strong enough to stop them, And all my mother’s love poured into my 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.
I don’t blame you; For hearing this, I too must hold back my tears, Or they’ll come out 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.
But listen! What’s this new alarm? The French have sent reinforcements to their scattered men: Then every soldier should kill his prisoners: Pass the word along.