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 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 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 shame 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.

Come, side by side together live and die;

And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.

SCENE II-A Field of Battle.

[Exeunt.

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 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 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 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? How didst thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art sealed 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 an if I stay,

"Tis but the short'ning of my life one day:

In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,

My death 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 Taibot 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 III-Another part of the same.

Alarum: Excursions. Enter Talbot wounded, supported by a Servant.

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 knce,
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,
Tend'ring 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 over-mounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Enter Soldiers, bearing the body of John Talbot.

Serv. O my dear lord! lo, where your son is borne!
Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here to scorn,
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.

133. THE SIEGE OF ORLEANS.

SHAKSPERE.

[The narrative of Holinshed of the first interview of Joan of Arc with Charles VII., is as follows:

"In time of this siege at Orleans, unto Charles the Dauphin, at Chinon, as he was in very great care and study how to wrestle against the English nation, by one Peter Badricourt, captain of Vacouleur (made after marshal of France by the Dauphin's creation), was carried a young wench of an eighteen years old, called Joan Arc, by name of her father (a sorry shepherd), James of Arc, and Isabella her mother, brought up poorly in their trade of keeping cattle, born at Domprin (therefore reported by Bale, Joan Domprin), upon Meuse in Lorraine, within the diocese of Thoule. Of favour was she counted likesome, of person strongly made and manly, of courage great, hardy, and stout withal, an understander of counsels though she were not at them, great semblance of chastity both of body and behaviour, the name of Jesus in her mouth about all her businesses, humble, obedient, and fasting divers days in the week. A person (as their books make her) raised up by power divine, only for succour to the French

estate, then deeply in distress, in whom, for planting a credit the rather, first the company that towards the Dauphin did conduct her, through places all dangerous, as held by the English, where she never was afore, all the way and by nightertale safely did she lead: then at the Dauphin's sending by her assignment, from Saint Katherine's church of Fierbois in Touraine (where she never had been and knew not), in a secret place there, among old iron, appointed she her sword to be sought out and brought her, that with five fleur-de-lis was graven on both sides, wherewith she fought and did many slaughters by her own hands. In warfare rode she in armour, cap-à-pie, and mustered as a man, before her an ensign all white, wherein was Jesus Christ painted with a fleur-de-lis in his hand.

"Unto the Dauphin into his gallery when first she was brought, and he shadowing himself behind, setting other gay lords before him to try her cunning from all the company, with a salutation (that indeed was all the matter) she picked him out alone, who thereupon had her to the end of the gallery, where she held him an hour in secret and private talk, that of his privy chamber was thought very long, and therefore would have broken it off'; but he made them a sign to let her say on. In which (among other), as likely it was, she set out unto him the singular feats (forsooth) given her to understand by revelation divine, that in virtue of that sword she should achievc, which were, how with honour and victory she would raise the siege at Orleans, set him in state of the crown of France, and drive the English out of the country, thereby he to enjoy the kingdom alone. Hereupon he hearkened at full, appointed her a sufficient army with absolute power to lead them, and they obediently to do as she bade them."

SCENE. Before Orleans.

Enter Charles, with his forces; Alençon, Reignier, and others.
Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens,

So in the earth, to this day is not known:
Late did he shine upon the English side;
Now we are victors, upon us he smiles.
What towns of any moment but we have?
At pleasure here we lie near Orleans;

Otherwhiles, the famish'd English, like pale ghosts

Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.

Alen. They want their porridge and their fat bull beeves:

Either they must be dieted like mules,

And have their provender tied to their mouths,

Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.

Reig. Let's raise the siege: Why live we idly here?

Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear:

Remajneth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury;

And he may well in fretting spend his gall,

Nor men nor money hath he to make war.

Char. Sound, sound alarum; we will rush on them.
Now for the honour of the forlorn French :-

Him I forgive my death that killeth me,
When he sees me go back one foot, or fly.

Alarums. They are beaten back by the English, with great loss.

Alençon, Reignier and others.

Char. Whoever saw the like? what men have I?-
Dogs! cowards! dastards!-I would ne'er have fled,
But that they left me midst my enemies.

Night-time. The word is in Chaucer.

"So hote he loved, that by nightertalo

He slept no more than doth the nightingale."

Exeunt.

Re-enter Charles,

Tyrwhitt explains it as derived from the Saxon nightern dæl, nocturna porti o.

Reig. Salisbury is a desperate homicide;
He fighteth as one weary of his life.
The other lords, like lions wanting food,

Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.

Alen. Froissart, a countryman of ours, records,
England all Olivers and Rowlands bred
During the time Edward the third did reign.
More truly now may this be verified;

For none but Samsons and Goliasses,

It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten!.

Lean raw-bon'd rascals! who would e'er suppose

They had such courage and audacity i

Char. Let's leave this town; for they are hair-brain'd slaves,
And hunger will enforce them to be more eager :

Of old I know them; rather with their teeth
The walls they 'll tear down than forsake the siego.
Reig. I think, by some odd gimmers or device,
Their arms are set like clocks, still to strike on ;
Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do.
By my consent, we 'll even let them alone.
Alen. Be it so.

Enter the Bastard of Orleans.

Bast. Where's the prince dauphin? I have news for him.
Char. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.

Bast. Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd;
Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence ?

Be not dismay'd. for succour is at hand:

A holy maid hither with me I bring,

Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven,

Ordained is to raise this tedious siege,

And drive the English forth the bounds of France.

The spirit of deep prophecy she hath,

Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome;

What's past, and what 's to come, she can descry.

Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words,

For they are certain and unfallible.

Char. Go, call her in [Exit Bastard]: But, first, to try her skill,

Reignier, stand thou as dauphin in my place :

Question her proudly, let thy looks be stern :

By this means shall we sound what skill she hath.

Enter La Pucelle, Bastard of Orleans, and others.

Reig. Fair maid, is 't thou wilt do these wondrous feats?
Puc. Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to beguile me ?
Where is the dauphin ?-come, come from behind;

I know thee well, though never seen before.
Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me :
In private will I talk with thee apart ;—
Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile.
Reig. She takes upon her bravely at first dash.

[Retires.