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.

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

[Aside.

1 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.

Tal. Thou antick, death, which laugh'st us here to

seorn,

Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,

Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots, winged through the lither' sky,
In thy despite shall 'scape mortality.-

O! thou whose wounds become hard-favour'd death,
Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath:
Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no:
Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe.-

Poor boy! he smiles, methinks; as who should say,
Had death been French, then death had died to-day.
Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms.
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Soldiers, adieu! I.have what I would have.
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.

[Dies. Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers, leaving the two bodies. Enter CHARLES, ALENÇON, BURGUNDY, Bastard, LA PUCELLE, and Forces.

Char. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in, We should have found a bloody day of this.

Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging wood,❜

Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!
Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said,
"Thou maiden youth be vanquish'd by a maid :"
But with a proud, majestical high scorn,

He answered thus: "Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench."

So, rushing in the bowels of the French,

He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.

Bur. Doubtless, he would have made a noble knight. See, where he lies inhersed in the arms

Of the still bleeding nurser of his harms.

Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder, Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.

Char. O, no! forbear; for that which we have fled During the life, let us not wrong it dead.

Enter Sir WILLIAM LUCY, attended; a French Herald preceding.

Lucy. Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,

To know who hath the glory of the day.

Yielding. Mad. most bloody: in f. e. hath obtained: in f. e.

Char. On what submissive message art thou sent ? Lucy. Submission, Dauphin! 't is a mere French word;

We English warriors wot not what it means.

I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.

Char. For prisoners ask'd thou? hell our prison is. But tell me briefly' whom thou seekest now".

Lucy. But where's the great Alcides of the field, Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury?

Created, for his rare success in arms,

Great earl of Washford3, Waterford, and Valence;
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,

Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, lord Furnival of Sheffield,
The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge;
Knight of the noble order of St. George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the golden fleece;
Great mareshal to Henry the sixth

Of all his wars within the realms of France ?
Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed!
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this,-

Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles,
Stinking, and fly-blown, lies here at our feet.

Lucy. Is Talbot slain? the Frenchman's only

scourge,

Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis ?
O! were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces.
O! that I could but call these dead to life,
It were enough to fright the realm of France.
Were but his picture left among you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies that I bear them forth,
And give them burial as beseems their worth.

Puc. I think, this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
For God's sake, let him have 'em; keep them here,
They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
Char. Go, take their bodies hence.
Lucy.

I'll bear them hence:

1 2 These two words are not in f. e. that I may bear them hence in f. e.

The old name of Wexford.

But from their very ashes shall be rear'd

A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.

Char. So we be rid of them, do what thou wilt. And now to Paris, in this conquering vein :

All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. [Excunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter King HENRY, GLOSTER, and EXETER. K. Hen. Have you perus'd the letters from the pope, The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac ?

Glo. I have, my lord; and their intent is this :They humbly sue unto your excellence,

To have a godly peace concluded of

Between the realms of England and of France.

K. Hen. How doth your grace affect their motion? Glo. Well, my good lord; and as the only means To stop effusion of much1 Christian blood, And 'stablish quietness on every side.

K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought, It was both impious and unnatural,

That such immanity and bloody strife
Should reign among professors of one faith.
Glo. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect,

And surer bind, this knot of amity,

The earl of Armagnac, near kin3 to Charles,
A man of great authority in France,

Proffers his only daughter to your grace

In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.

K. Hen. Marriage, uncle ? alas! my years are young,

And fitter is my study and my books,

Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
Yet, call th' ambassadors; and, as you please,
So let them have their answers every one :
I shall be well content with any choice,
Tends to God's glory and my country's weal.
Enter a Legate, and two Ambassadors, with WINCHES-
TER, as a Cardinal.

1 our: in f. e. 2 knit in f. e.