You fled for vantage, ev'ry one will fwear :
But if I bow, they'll fay it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay,
If the first hour. I fhrink and run away.
Here on my knee I beg mortality,
Rather than life preferv'd with infamy.
Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lye in one tomb? John. Ay, rather than I'll fhame my mother's womb.. Tal. Upon my bleffing. I command thee go. Jobn. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. Tal. Part of thy father may be fav'd in thee. John. No part of him but will be shame in me. Tal. Thou never hadft renown, and canft not lofe it. John. Yes, your renowned name; fhall fight abuse it? Tal. Thy father's charge fhall clear thee from the stain John. You cannot witness for me, being slain. If death be fo apparent, then both fly.
Tal. And leave my followers here to fight and die? My age was never tainted with such shame.
John. And fhall my youth be guilty of fuch blame? No more can I be fever'd from your fide, Than can your felf your felf 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 fon, Born to eclipfe thy life this afternoon :
Come, fide by fide together live and die,
And foul with foul from France to heav'n fhall fly. [Exeunt Alarum: excurfions, wherein Talbot's Son is bemin'd about, and Talbot rescues him.
Tal. St. George, and victory I fight, foldiers, fight:
The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
And left us to the rage of France's fword.
Where is John Talbot ? paufe, and take thy breath;
I gave thee life, and refcu'd thee from death.
Jobn. O twice my father, twice am I thy fon:
The life thou gav'ft me firft was loft and done,
"Till with thy warlike fword, defpight of fate,
To my determin'd time thou gav'it new date,
Tal. When from the Dauphin's creft thy fword ftruck fire,
It warm'd thy father's heart with proud defire
Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
Quicken'd with youthful fpleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alanfon, Orleans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia refcu'd thee.
The ireful Baftard Orleans that drew blood
From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
Of thy first fight, I foon encountered;
And interchanging blows, I quickly fhed
Some of his baftard blood; then in difgrace
Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, bafe,
And mif-begotten blood I fpill of thine,
Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine,
Which thou didst force from Talbot my brave boy -
Here purpofing the Baftard to deftroy,
Came in ftrong refcue. Speak, thy father's care,
Art not thou weary, John? how doft thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battel, boy, and fly,
Now thou art feal'd the fon of chivalry?
Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead;
The help of one ftands me in little ftead.
Oh, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one fmall boat.
If I to-day die not with Frenchmens rage,
To-morrow I fhall die with mickle age.
By me they nothing gain; and if I ftay,
Tis but the fhortning of my life one day.
In thee thy mother dies, our houthold's name,
My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame :
All these and more we hazard by thy ftay;
All thefe are fav'd if thou wilt fly away,
John. The fword of Orleans hath not made me fmart,
Thefe words of yours draw life-blood from my heart,
Oh! what advantage bought with fuch a shame,
To fave a paltry life, and flay bright fame!
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horfe that bears me fall and die,
And leave me to the peafant boys of France,
To be shame's fcorn and fubject of mischance!
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
And if I fly, I am not Talbot's fon :
Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;
If fon to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.
Tal. Then follow thou thy defp'rate fire of Crete,
Thou Icarus! thy life to me is sweet:
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's fide,
And commendable prov'd, let's die in pride.
Alarum. Excurfions. Enter old Talbot led.
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 fmile at thee.
When he perceiv'd me fhrink and on my knee,
His bloody fword he brandish'd over me,
And like a hungry Lion did commence
Rough deeds of rage, and ftern impatience;
But when my angry guardant stood alone,
Tendring my ruin, and affail'd of none,
Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart
Suddenly made him from my fide to start
Into the cluft'ring battle of the French:
And in that fea of blood my boy did drench
His over-mounting fpirit; and there dy'd
My Icarus, my bloffom, in his pride!
Serv. O my dear Lord! lo where your fon is born. Tal. Thou antick death, which laugh'ft us here to fcorna Anon, from thy infulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots winged through the lither fky,
In thy defpight fhall 'fcape mortality.
O thou, whofe wounds become hard-favoured death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath.*
Brave death by fpeaking, whether he will or no:
Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe.
Poor boy, he fmiles, methinks, as who should fay,
Had death been French, then death had died to-day,
Come, come,
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.
ACT V. SCENE I.
Continues near Bourdeaux.
Enter Dauphin, Alanfon, Burgundy, Baftard, and Pucelle.
AD York and Somerfet brought refcue in,
We fhould have found a bloody day of this.
Baft. How the young whelp of Talbot's raging brood
Did flesh his puny fword in Frenchmen's blood!
Pucel Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said:
Thou maiden youth, be vanquifb'd by a maid.
But with a proud, majestical, high fcorn
He answer'd thus: Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench.
So, rufhing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight,
Burg. Doubtless he would have made a noble Knight: See where he lies inherfed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurfer of his harms.
Baft. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder, Whofe life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.
Dau. Oh, no: forbear: for that which we have fled During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
Lucy. Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,
Who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.
De, On what fubmiffive meffage art thou fent?
Lucy. Submiffion, Dauphin? 'tis a meer French word :
We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou haft ta'en,
And to furvey the bodies of the dead.
Dau. For prifoners afk'ft thou? hell our prifon is. t tell me whom thou feek'st.
ucy. Where is the great Alcides of the field, nt Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury? The ed for his rare fuccefs in arms,
Earl of Wafford, Waterford, and Valence,
And
To Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield ;
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton,
Lord Cromwel of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffeild,
The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,
Knight of the noble order of St. George,
Worthy St. Michael, and the Golden Fleece,
Great Marshal to our King Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France.
Pucel. Here is a filly, ftately ftile indeed:
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not fo tedious a ftile as this.
He that thou magnify'st with all these titles,
Stinking and fly-blown lyes here as our feet.
Lucy. Is Talbot flain, the Frenchmens only fcourge,
Your Kingdom's terror and black Nemefis?
Oh, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
That I in rage might fhoot them at your faces!
Oh, 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 may bear them hence,
And give them burial, as befeems their worth.
Pucel. I think this upftart is old Talbot's ghoft,
He speaks with fuch a proud commanding fpirit:-
For God's fake let him have 'em; to keep them here,
They would but ftink and putrifie the air.
Dau. Go take their bodies hence.
Lucy. I'll bear them hence;
But from their afhes, Dauphin, fhall be rear'd
A Phoenix that shall make all France afear'd.
Dau. So we be rid of them, do what thou wilt:
And now to Paris in this conquʼring vein;
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's flain.
SCENE II. Changes to England.
Enter King Henry, Gloucefter, and Exeter.
K. Henry. Have you perus'd the letters from the Pope, The Emperor, and Earl of Armagnac ?
Glou. I have, my Lord, and their intent is this ; They humbly fue unto your Excellence,
To have a godly peace concluded of,
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