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York. Alas! what joys shall noble Talbot have, To bid his young son welcome to his gravel Away! vexation almost stops my breath, + That sundered friends greet in the hour of death.Lucy, farewell! no more my fortune can, But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.— Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away, 'Long all of Somerset, and his delay. [Exit.
Lucy. Thus, while the vulture of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory, Henry the Fifth.-Whiles they each other cross, Lives, honors, lands, and all, hurry to loss. [Eart.
SCENE IV. Other Plains of Gascony.
Enter SoMERSET, with his Forces; an Officer of TALBot’s with him.
Som. It is too late ; I cannot send them now : This expedition was by York, and Talbot, Too rashly plotted; all our general force Might with a sally of the very town Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot Hath sullied all his gloss of former honor, By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure: York set him on to fight, and die in shame, t That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.
Off. Here is sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o’ermatched forces forth for aid.
Enter SIR WILLIAM Lucy. Som. How now, sir William? whither were you sent?
Lucy. Whither, my lord? from bought and sold lord Talbot;"
Who, ringed about" with bold adversity,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset,
To beat assailing death from his weak legions.
And whiles the honorable captain there
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs,
And, in advantage lingering,” looks for rescue,
You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honor,
Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
Let not your private discord keep away
The levied succors 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.
Som. York set him on ; York should have sent
Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace exclaims;
Swearing that you withhold his levied host,
Collected for this expedition.
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
Hath now entrapped the noble-minded Talbot.
Never to England shall he bear his life;
But dies, betrayed to fortune by your strife.
Som. Come, go ; I will despatch the horsemen
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
SCENE W. The English Camp near Bordeaux.
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 revived,
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.
John. Is my name Talbot P and am I your son r
And shall I fly P O, if you love my mother,
Dishonor not her honorable 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 honor you have won ;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done:
You fled for vantage every one will swear;
But, if I bow, 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 preserved with infamy.
Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb P 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 saved in thee. John. No part of him, but will be shame in me. Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it. John. Yes, your renowned name: shall flight abuse it P Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain. f 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 P No more can I be severed 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. Come, side by side together live and die; And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. [Eveunt.
SCENE VI. A Field of Battle.
Alarum : Eaccursions, 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 his 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 determined" time thou gav’st new date.
Tal. When from the dauphin's crest thy sword
It warmed thy father's heart with proud desire
Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age,
Quickened with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alençon, Orleans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia rescued 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 force 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 P. How dost thou fare P
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art sealed the son of chivalry P
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, an if I stay;
'Tis but the shortening of my life one day:
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 saved if thou wilt fly away.