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York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the

stake. [Exeunt. Alarums. Enter SUFFOLK, leading in Lady MARGARET. Suf. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.

O, fairest beauty! do not fear, nor fly,

[Gazes on her.

For I will touch thee but with reverent hands:

I kiss these fingers [Kissing her hand] for eternal peace, And lay them gently on thy tender side.

Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee.

Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a king,

The king of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.

Suf. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd.

Be not offended, nature's miracle,

Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me:
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings.
Yet, if this servile usage once offend,
Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend.

[She turns away as going.
O, stay!-I have no power to let her go1;
My hand would free her, but my heart says-no.`
As plays the sun upon the glassy stream,
Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak:
I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind.
Fie, De la Poole ! disable not thyself;

Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy prisoner ?2
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?

Ay; beauty's princely majesty is such,

Confounds the tongue, and mocks the sense of touch.❜
Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk, if thy name be so,
What ransom must I pay before I pass?

For, I perceive, I am thy prisoner.

Suf. How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit,

Before thou make a trial of her love?

[Aside.

Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I

pay?

Suf. She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore to be won.

1

Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea, or no?

[Aside.

pass in f. e. 2 These two words are from the second folio. makes the senses rough: in f. e.

In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,
My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay;
All these are sav'd, if thou wilt fly away.

John. The sword of Orleans hath not made me

smart;

These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart.
On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
(To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame)
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horse that bears me fall and die!
And like me to the peasant boys of France,
To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance!
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An if I fly I am not Talbot's son:

Then, talk no more of flight, it is no boot,
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete,

Thou Icarus. Thy life to me is sweet:

If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side,

And, commendable prov'd, let 's die in pride. [Exeunt. SCENE VII.-Another Part of the Same.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter TALBOT wounded, supported by a Soldier1.

Tal. Where is my other life?-mine own is gone : O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John ?Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity,

Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee.-
When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
And like a hungry lion did commence
Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience;
But when my angry guardant stood alone,
Tendering my ruin, and assail'd of none,
Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart,
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust❜ring battle of the French:
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His overmounting spirit; and there died

My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Enter Soldiers, bearing the body of JOHN TALBOT. Sold. O, my dear lord! lo, where your son is borne !

1 servant: in f. e.

You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour,
Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.

Let not your private discord keep away
The levied succours that should lend him aid,
While he, renowned noble gentleman,
Yields up his life unto a world of odds.
Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy,
Alençon, Reignier, compass him about,

And Talbot perisheth by your default.

Jaid.

Som. York set him on, York should have sent him Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace exclaims; Swearing that you withhold his levied host, Collected for this expedition.

[horse.

Som. York lies: he might have sent and had the

I owe him little duty, and less love,

And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.

Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot!

Never to England shall he bear his life,
But dies betray'd to fortune by your strife.

Som. Come, go; I will despatch the horsemen straight:

Within six hours they will be at his aid.

Lucy. Too late comes rescue: he is ta'en, or slain,
For fly he could not, if he would have fled,
And fly would Talbot never, though he might.

Som. If he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu!
Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-The English Camp near Bourdeaux. Enter TALBOT and JOHN his Son.

Tal. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee,
To tutor thee in stratagems of war,

That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd,
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs,
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But, O, malignant and ill-boding stars!—
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided' danger :

Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse,
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight. Come, dally not; begone.

1 Not to be avoided.

John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your son?
And shall I fly? O! if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,

To make a bastard, and a slave of me :
The world will say he is not Talbot's blood,
That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood.
Tal. Fly to revenge my death, if I be slain.
John. He that flies so will ne'er return again.
Tal. If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
John. Then let me stay; and father, do you fly:
Your loss is great, so your regard should be;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast,
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won,
But mine it will, that no exploit have done :
You fled for 'vantage every one will swear,
But if I fly', they'll say it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay,
If the first hour I shrink, and run away.
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
Rather than life preserv'd with infamy.

Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?
John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.
Tal. Upon my blessing I command thee go.
John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
Tal. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee.
John. No part of him but will be shamed in me.
Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.
John. Yes, your renowned name; shall flight abuse it?
Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that
stain.

John. You cannot witness for me, being slain.

If death be so apparent, then both fly.

Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight, and die? My age was never tainted with such shame."

John. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame? No more can I be sever'd from your side,

Than can yourself yourself in twain divide:

Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I ;
For live I will not, if my father die.

Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son, Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.

1 bow in f. e.

Come, side by side together live and die,

And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI-A Field of Battle.

Alarum: Excursions, wherein TALBOT's Son is hemmed about, and TALBOT rescues him.

Tal. Saint George and victory! fight, soldiers, fight! The regent hath with Talbot broke his word, And left us to the rage of France's sword.

Where is John Talbot ?-pause, and take thy breath;
I gave thee life, and rescued thee from death.

John. O, twice my father! twice am I thy son:
The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done;
Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date.

Tal. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire,

It warmed thy father's heart with proud desire
Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alençon, Orleans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee.
The ireful bastard Orleans, that drew blood
From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
Of thy first fight, I soon encountered,
And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed
Some of his bastard blood; and, in disgrace,
Bespoke him thus: "Contaminated, base,
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,

Mean and right poor; for that pure blood of mine,
Which thou didst foree from Talbot, my brave boy :".
Here purposing the Bastard to destroy,

Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care,
Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?
Fly to revenge my death, when I am dead;
The help of one stands me in little stead.
O! too much folly is it, well I wot,

To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
To-morrow I shall die with mickle age:
By me they nothing gain, and if I stay,
'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day:

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