That I, thy enemy, due 1 thee withal;
For ere the glass, that now begins to run,
Finish the process of his sandy hour,

These eyes, that see thee now well colored, Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead. [drum afar off.

Hark! hark! the Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul;

And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

[Exeunt General, &c. from the walls.

Tal. He fables not; I hear the enemy.-
Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.
O, negligent and heedless discipline!
How are we park'd, and bounded in a pale;
A little herd of England's timorous deer,
Mazed with a yelping kennel of French curs!
If we be English deer, be then in blood: 2
Not rascal-like,3 to fall down with a pinch;
But rather moody-mad, and desperate stags,
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel,
And make the cowards stand aloof at bay:
Sell every man his life as dear as mine,

And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.
God, and saint George! Talbot, and England's

right!

Prosper our colors in this dangerous fight! [Exeunt.

1 Endue, grace.

2 Be of true mettle.

3 A rascal deer is the term of chase for lean, poor deer.

SCENE III.

Plains in Gascony.

Enter YORK, with forces; to him a MESSENGER.

York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again, That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin? Mes. They are return'd, my lord; and give it

out,

That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power,
To fight with Talbot. As he march'd along,
By your espials 1 were discovered

Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led;
Which join'd with him, and made their march for
Bourdeaux.

York. A plague upon that villain Somerset,
That thus delays my promised supply

Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege!
Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid;
And I am louted 2 by a traitor villain,
And cannot help the noble chevalier.
God comfort him in this necessity!
If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.

Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY.

Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English strength,

1 Spies.

2 Treated with contempt.

Never so needful on the earth of France,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot,
Who now is girdled with a waist of iron,
And hemm'd about with grim destruction.

To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, York! Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honor. York. O God! that Somerset,-who in proud

heart

Doth stop my cornets,—were in Talbot's place!
So should we save a valiant gentleman,

By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.

Mad ire, and wrathful fury, makes me weep,
That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep.

Lucy. O, send some succour to the distress'd

lord!

York. He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word:

We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get; All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset.

Lucy. Then, God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul,

And on his son, young John; whom, two hours

since,

I met in travel toward his warlike father!

This seven years did not Talbot see his son;

And now they meet where both their lives are

done.

York. Alas! what joy shall noble Talbot have, To bid his young son welcome to his grave? Away! vexation almost stops my breath,

That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death.

Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can,
But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.
Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours are won away,
'Long all of Somerset, and his delay.

Lucy. Thus, while the vulture of sedition
Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,
Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss
The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror,
That ever-living man of memory,

[Exit.

Henry the fifth. Whiles they each other cross,
Lives, honors, lands, and all, hurry to loss.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Other plains of Gascony.

Enter SOMERSET, with his forces; an OFFICER of Talbot's with him.

Som. It is too late; I cannot send them now: This expedition was by York and Talbot Too rashly plotted; all our general force Might, with a sally of the very town, Be buckled with the over-daring Talbot Hath sullied all his gloss of former honor, By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure. York set him on to fight, and die in shame, That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the

name.

Off. Here is sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid.

Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY.

Som. How now, sir William? whither were you

sent?

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 honorable captain there
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs,
And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue ;—
You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honor,
Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.

Let not your private discord keep away
The levied succours that should lend him aid;
While he, renowned, noble gentleman,
Yields up his life unto a world of odds.
Orleans the Bastard, Charles, 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 ex

claims;

Swearing, that you withhold his levied host,

Collected for this expedition.

Encircled.