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You Aed for vantage, ev'ry 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 lye in one tomb ?

John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.
Tal. Upon my blessing. I command thee go,
Jobn. 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, and canft not lose it.
Jobn. Yes, your renowned name ; thall Áight abuse it?
Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from the stain.
John. You cannot witness for me, being sain.
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 thall my youth be guilty of such blame ?
No more can I be sever'd from your side,
Than can your self your self 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 také 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 heav'n shall fly. (Exeun,
Aarum : excursions, wherein Talbot's Son is bemind

about, and Talbot rescues bim.
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 sword.
Where is Jobn Talbot ? pause, and take thy breath ;
I gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death.

Fobn. O twice my father, twice am I thy fon :
The life thou gav'it me first was loft and done,
'Till with thy warlike sword, despight of fate,
To my determin'd time chou gav't new date,


D & 3

Tal. When from the Dauphin's creft thy sword ftruck fire,
It warm'd 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 Alanson, 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 firft fight, I soon encountered;
And interchanging blows, I quickly shed
Some of his bastard blood; then in disgrace
Bespoke him thus : Contaminated, base,
And mis-begotten blood I spill of thine,
Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine,
Wbicb thou didA force from Talbot my brave bay -
Here purposing the Bastard to destroy,
Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care,
Art not thou weary, Fobn? how dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battel, 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.
Oh, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
If I to-day die not with Frenchmens rage,
To-morrow I shall die with mickle age.
By me they nothing gain ; and if I ftay,
'Tis but the shortning of my life one day.
In thee thy mother dies, our houshold's name,
My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame :
All these and more we hazard by thy stay;
All these are fav'd if thou wilt Ay away.

Jobn. The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart,
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart,
Oh ! what advantage bought with such a shame,
To save a paltry life, and Nay bright fame!

Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horse that bears me fall and die,
And leave me to the peasant boys of France,
To be shame's scorn and fubject of mischance !


Surely, by all the glory you have won,
And if I Ay, I am not Talbot's fon :
Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot ;
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy desp'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. [Exeunt.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led.
Tal. Where is my other life? mine own is gone,
O! where's young Talbot? where is valiant Fobn?
Triumphant death smear'd with captivity!
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee,
When he perceiv'd me thrink 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,
Tendring my ruin, and affailid 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 dy'd
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride!

Enter John Talbot, born.
Serv. O my dear Lord ! lo where your son is born,

Tal. Thou antick death, which laugh'ft us here to fcorn,
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots winged through the lither sky,
In thy despight shall 'fcape mortality.
O thou, whose wounds become hard-favoured death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath. *
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, 66

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Come, come, and lay bim in his father's arms,
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.,
Soldiers, adieu ! I have what I woold have,
Now my old arms are young Jebn Talbot's grave. Dies.


Continues near Bourdeaux. Enter Dauphin, Alanson, Burgundy, Bastard, and Pucello Dar, AD York and Somerset brought rescue in,

We should have found a bloody day of this. Baft. How the young whelp of Talbot's raging brood Did felh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood !

Pucek 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 answer'd thus : Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wencb.
So, rushing 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 inhersed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.

Baft. Hew them to pieces, back their bones asunder, Whose 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.

Enter Lucy.
Lucy. Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,
Who hath obtain’d the glory of the day,

D:%. On what submissive message art thou sent?
Lucy. Submission, 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 survey the bodies of the dead.

Dau. For prisoners ask'st thou ? hell our prison is. mint tell me whom thou seek'st. To

ucy. Where is the great Alcides of the field,

int Lord Talbot, Earl of Sbrewsbury ?
Befo.ed for his rare success in arms,
The Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Velence,
And Talbot of Goodrig and Určbinfield ;
To be



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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 Gilly, stately stile indeed :
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a ftile as this.
He that thou magnify'st with all these titles,
Stinking and fly-blown lyés here as our feet.

Lucy. Is Talbot Nain, the Frenchmens only scourge,
Your Kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
Oh, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
That I in rage might shoot 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 beseems their worth.

Pucel. I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghoft,
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit ::
For God's sake let him have 'em; to keep them here,
They would but stink and putrifie the air.

Dau. Go take their bodies hence,

Lucy. I'll bear them hence;
But from their ashes, Dauphin, shall 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 conqu’ring vein ;
All will be ours, now bloody Talbor's Nain. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.' Changes to England.

Enter King Henry, Gloucester, 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 incent is this ;
They humbly sue unto your Excellence,
To have a godly peace concluded of,


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