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Tal. If we both stay, we both are fure to die.
John. Then let me stay, and, father, do you fly:
Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lye in one tomb?
never hadît renown, nor canft not lose it. John. Yes, your renowned name ; shall fight abuse it? Tal.Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stan.
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. :
Hobr. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame? No more can I be lever'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 take my leave of thee, fair fon, Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon: Come, fide by side, together live and die ; And soul with foul from France to heaven fly. [Exeunt. I beg mortality,] Mortality, for death.
Alarm : excursions, wherein Talbot's son is bemmid
about, and Talbot rescues bim. Tal. St. Gearge, and victory! fight, soldiers, fight: The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word, And left us to the rage of France's sword. Where is John. Talbot? pause, and take thy breath; y I gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death.
John. O, twice my father! twice am I thy fon : The life, thou gav'ft me first, was lost and done ; Till with thy warlike sword, despight of fate, To my determin'd time thou gav'it new date. Tal. When from the Dauphin's creft thy (ward
struck 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 maidenhoad Of thy first Fight, I foon encountered ; And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed Some of his bastard blood; and in disgrace Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, bale, And mis-begotten blood I spill of thine, Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine, Which thou didâ force from Talbot, my brave boy Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, Came in ftrong rescue. Speak, thy father's care, Art not thou weary, Fobn? how dost thou fare? Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and Ay, Now thou art feal'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, 1.A To hazard all our lives in one small boat,
If I to day die not with Frenchmens' rage,
Jobn. The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart,
Tal. Then follow thou thy desp'rate 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.
Alarm. Excurfions. Enter old Talbot, led. Tal. Where is my other life? mine own is gone. Op where's young Talbot? where is valiant Jobn? Triumphant Death, smear'd with captivity! Young Talbot's valour makes me fmile at thee. When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee, His bloody sword he brandish'd over me ;
(fa) out on ibat vontage. Mr. Theobald. advantage )
- Volg. on that
And, like a hungry Lion, did commence
Enter John Talbot, borne.
scorn, Anon, from thy insulting tyranny, Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, Two Talbots winged through the lither sky, In thy despight, shall 'frape 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 fhould 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, old arms are young John Talbot's Grave.
A C T V. S Ć EN EL.
Continues near Bourdeaux.
We should have found a bloody day of this.
Pucel. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said:
Baft. Hew them to pieces, hack their banes afunder;
Char. Oh, no: forbear : for that which we have fled
Enter Sir William Lucy.
Char. On what submissive message art thou fent?
Lucy. Submission, Dauphin? 'tis a meer French word,
) warriors -wot not, what it means.