Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
Το my determin'd time" thou gav'st new date.
Tal. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword
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 Alençon, 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 first fight-I soon encountered;
And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed
Some of his bastard blood; and, in disgrace,
Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base,
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,

Mean and right poor; for that pure blood of mine,
Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy:-
Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy,

Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care;
Art not thou weary, John? How didst thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, 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.
O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
To-morrow I shall 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 these, and more, we hazard by thy stay;

AH these are sav'd, if thou wilt fly away.

5 To my determin'd time-] i. e. ended.

John. The sword of Orleans hath not made me

smart,

These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart:
On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
(To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,)
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die!
And like me to the peasant boys of France;'
To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance!
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son:

Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate 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.

SCENE VII.

Another Part of the same.

Alarum: Excursions. Enter TALBOT wounded, supported by a Servant.

Tal. Where is my other life?-mine own is gone;

O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?

• On that advantage, bought with such a shame,

(To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,)] The sense is— Before young Talbot fly from his father, (in order to save his life while he destroys his character,) on, or for the sake of, the advantages you mention, namely, preserving our household's name, &c. may my coward horse drop down dead! MALOne.

བ་

And like me to the peasant boys of France ;] To like one to the peasants, is, to compare, to level by comparison.

Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity!
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee:
When he perceiv'd me shrink, 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,
Tend'ring my ruin, and assail'd 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 overmounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Enter Soldiers, bearing the Body of JOHN TALBOT.

Serv. O my dear lord! lo, where your son is

borne !

Tal, Thou antick death,' which laugh'st us here

to scorn,

Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,

Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,*
In thy despite, shall 'scape mortality.-

O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured 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.-

8 Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity!] That is, death stained and dishonoured with captivity. JOHNSON.

9 Tend'ring my ruin,] Watching me with tenderness in my fall. 'Thou antick death,] The fool, or antick of the play, made sport by mocking the graver personages.

2

yielding.

winged through the lither sky,] Lither is flexible or

Poor boy! he smiles, 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 spirit can no longer bear these harmis.
Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.
[Dies.

Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving the two Bodies. Enter CHARLES, ALENÇON, BURGUNDY, Bastard, LA PUCELLE, and Forces.

Char. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in, We should have found a bloody day of this.

Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's raging wood,3

Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!*
Puc. 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 answered 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:

See, where he lies inhersed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.

3raging-wood,] i. e. raging mad.

in Frenchmen's blood!] The return of rhyme where young Talbot is again mentioned, and in no other place, strengthens the suspicion that these verses were originally part of some other work, and were copied here.only to save the trouble of composing

JOHNSON.

of a giglot wench :] Giglot is a wanton, or a strumpet. Сс

VOL. V.

Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder;

Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder. Char. O, no; forbear: for that which we have fled

During the life, let us not wrong it dead.

Enter Sir WILLIAM LUCY, attended; a French Herald preceding.

Lucy. Herald,

Conduct me to the Dauphin's tent; to know
Who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.

Char. On what submissive message art thou sent?
Lucy. Submission, Dauphin? 'tis a mere French

word;

We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.

Char. For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison

is.

But tell me whom thou seek'st.

Lucy. Where is the great Alcides of the field, Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury?

Created, for his rare success in arms,

Great earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence; Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,

Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton,
Lord Cromwell, of Wingfield, lord Furnival of
Sheffield,

The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge;
Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the golden fleece;
Great mareshal to Henry the sixth,

Of all his wars within the realm of France?
Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed!
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,