The world will fay-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 fo, will ne'er return again.
Tal. If we both stay, we both are fure to die.
John. Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly ;
Your lofs is great, so your regard should be;
My worth unknown, no lofs is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are loft.
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 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 lie in one tomb?
John. Ay, rather than I'll fhame my mother's womb,
Tal. Upon my bleffing I command thee go.
John. 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, nor canst not lose it.
John. Yes, your renowned name; Shall flight abufe
Tal. Thy father's charge fhall clear thee from that
John. You cannot witnefs for
me, being flain. If death be fo apparent, then both fly.
Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight, and die?
My age was never tainted with fuch shame.
John. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?
No more can I be fever'd from your fide,
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 fon,
Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
Come, fide by fide together live and die;
And foul with foul from France to heaven fly. [Exeunt.
Alarum: Excurfions, wherein Talbot's fon is bemm'd about, and TALBOT rescues him.
Tal. Saint George and victory! fight, foldiers, 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 refcu'd thee from death.
John. O twice my father! twice am I thy son :
The life, thou gav'ft me first, was loft and done;
Till with thy warlike fword, defpite of fate,
To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date.
Tal. When from the Dauphin's creft thy sword struck fire,
It warm'd thy father's heart with proud defire
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 rescu'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 shed
Some of his baftard blood; and, in disgrace,
Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, bafe,
And mifbegotten 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 Bastard to destroy,
Came in ftrong refcue. Speak, thy father's care;
Art not thou weary, John? How dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, 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 stead.
O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one fmall boat.
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
To-morrow I fhall 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's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame : All thefe, and more, we hazard by thy stay;
All these are fav'd, if thou wilt fly away.
John. The fword of Orleans hath not made me smart, Thefe words of yours draw life-blood from my heart : On that advantage, bought with such a shame, (To fave a paltry life, and slay bright fame,) Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly, The coward horfe, that bears me, fall and die! And like me to the peasant boys of France; To be fhame's fcorn, and subject of mifchance! Surely, by all the glory you have won, An 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 defperate 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.
Another Part of the fame.
Alarum: Excurfions. Enter TALBOT wounded, fupported by a Servant.
Tal. Where is my other life?-mine own is gone;-
O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?-
Triumphant death, fmear'd with captivity!
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee :-
When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee,
His bloody fword he brandifh'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 fide to start
Into the cluft'ring battle of the French:
And in that fea of blood my boy did drench
His overmounting fpirit; and there dy'd
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
Enter Soldiers, bearing the body of JOHN TALBOT.
Serv. O my dear lord! lo, where your fon is borne!
Tal. Thou antick death, which laugh'ft us here to
Anon, from thy infulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
In thy defpite, fhall 'fcape 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 fmiles, 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 fpirit 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.
Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving the two
bodies. Enter CHARLES, ALENÇON, BURGUNDY, Baftard, LA PUCELLE, and Forces.
Char. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.
Baft. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-wood, Did flesh his puny fword in Frenchmen's blood!
Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I faid,
Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid:
But-with a proud, majestical, high fcorn,-
He anfwer'd thus; Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench:
So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
Bur. Doubtless, he would have made a noble knight:
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