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Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can,
Lucy. Thus while the vulture of sedition
Other Plains of Gascony.
Lucy. Whither, my lord ? from bought and sold
lord Talbot ; Who, ring'd about with bold adversity, Cries out for noble York and Somerset, To beat assailing death from his weak legions. And whiles the honourable captain there Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs, And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue, You, his false hopes, the trust of England's ho
nour, Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. Let not your private discord keep away
. The levied succours that should lend him aid, Whiles he, renowned noble gentleman, Yields up his life unto a world of odds : Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy, Alençon, Reignier, compass him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default. Som. York set him on, York should have sent
him aid. Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace exclaims; Swearing that you withhold his levied host, Collected for this expedition. Som. York lies; he might have sent and had the
from bought and sold Lord Talbot ;].i. e. from one utterly ruined by the treacherous practices of others.
ring d about —] Environed, encircled.
in advantage ling'ring,] Protracting his resistance by the advantage of a strong post.
8 — worthless emulation.] In this line, emulation signifres merely rivalry, not struggle for superior excellence.
Never to England shall he bear his life;
straight: Within six hours they will be at his aid. Lucy. Too late comes rescue; he is ta’en, or
slain : For fly he could not, if he would have fled ; And fy would Talbot never, though he might.
Som. If he be dead, brave Talbot then adieu ! Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you.
The English Camp near Bourdeaux.
Enter TALBOT and John his Son.
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse;
John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your son ? And shall I fly 0, if you love
my mother, Dishonour not her honourable name,
a feast of death,] To a field where death will be feasted with slaughter:
unavoided --] for unavoidable.
To make a bastard, and a slave of me:
Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.
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. No part of him, but will be shame in-me.
lose it. John. Yes, your renowned name; Shall flight
noble Talbot stood.] For what reason this scene is written in rhyme, I cannot guess. If Shakspeare had not in other plays mingled his rhymes and blank verses in the same manner, I should have suspected that this dialogue had been a part of some other poem which was never finished, and that being loath to throw his labour away, he inserted it here. Johnson.
your regard-) Your care of your own safety,
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 song Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. Come, side by side together live and die; And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.
A Field of Battle.
Alarun : 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 rescu'd thee from death. : John. O twice my father! twice am I thy son: The life, thou gav'st me first, was lost and done;