Act2 Scene2

Or like to men prowd of destruction, Defie vs to our worst: for as I am a Souldier, A Name that in my thoughts becomes me best;

If I begin the batt'rie once againe, I will not leaue the halfe-atchieued Harflew, Till in her ashes she lye buryed. What is't to me, when you your selues are cause,

If your pure Maydens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing Violation? What Reyne can hold licentious Wickednesse, When downe the Hill he holds his fierce Carriere?

Therefore, you men of Harflew, Take pitty of your Towne and of your People, Whiles yet my Souldiers are in my Command, Whiles yet the coole and temperate Wind of Grace O're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds Of headly Murther, Spoyle, and Villany.

If not: why in a moment looke to see The blind and bloody Souldier, with foule hand Desire the Locks of your shrill-shriking Daughters: Your Fathers taken by the siluer Beards, And their most reuerend Heads dasht to the Walls: Your naked Infants spitted vpon Pykes, Whiles the mad Mothers, with their howles confus'd, Doe breake the Clouds; as did the Wiues of Iewry, At Herods bloody-hunting slaughter-men.

What say you? Will you yeeld, and this auoyd? Or guiltie in defence, be thus destroy'd.

Gouernour: Enter our Gates, dispose of vs and ours, For we no longer are defensible.

King: Open your Gates:

Come Vnckle Exeter, Goe you and enter Harflew; there remaine, And fortifie it strongly 'gainst the French: Vse mercy to them all for vs, deare Vnckle.