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Now my old arms are young John Talbot's



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-

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 answer'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: See, where he lies inhearsed in the arms


32. The battle in which the Talbots fell is known in history as the battle of Chatillon, the name of a fortress not far from Bordeaux, and took place in July, 1453. The occasion was this: The preceding year, while England was torn with civil war, all France having been lost, the people of Guienne, impatient of French tyranny, sent over a deputation, offering to renew their allegiance, and soliciting the aid of an army. The invitation was gladly accepted, and the command given to the veteran earl of Shrewsbury. The old hero used such energy and despatch, that he took possession of Bordeaux and the surrounding country before the French could interpose any hindrance. The next spring, while he was extending his conquests, a French army invested Chatillon, which he had before taken and fortified. Talbot, hastening to its relief, surprised and defeated a large body of the enemy; whereupon the French retired into an intrenched camp lined with three hundred pieces of cannon. He then ordered an assault, and the enemy began to waver, when the arrival of a new body of men turned the day against him.-H. N. H.

Of the most bloody nurser of his harms!

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; Herald of the French 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. But where's the great Alcides of the field,
Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, 61
Created, for his rare success in arms,

Great Earl of Washford, Waterford and

Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of

60. "But where's"; so Ff.; Rowe, "Where is"; Lettsom proposed, "First, where's.”—I. G.

63, "Washford," Wexford.-C. H. H,

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 marshal 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,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.


Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet. Lucy. Is Talbot slain, the Frenchman's only scourge,


Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but call these dead to life!
It were enough to fright the realm of France:
Were but his picture left amongst you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.

Give me their bodies, that I may bear them

And give them burial as beseems their worth. Puc. I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit,

For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep them here,

70. "Henry"; so F. 1; Ff. 2, 3, 4, "our King Henry." The line is probably to be read:

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“Great mareshal to Henery the Sixth.”—I. G.

They would but stink, and putrify the air. 90 Char. Go, take their bodies hence.

Lucy. I'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall be rear'd

A phoenix that shall make all France afeard. Char. So we be rid of them, do with 'em what thou wilt.

And now to Paris, in this conquering vein:
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.




London. The palace.

Sennet. Enter King, Gloucester, and Exeter. King. Have you perused the letters from the pope, The emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac? Glou. I have, my lord: and their intent is this: They humbly sue unto your excellence

To have a godly peace concluded of


Between the realms of England and of France. King. How doth your grace affect their motion? Glou. Well, my good lord; and as the only means To stop effusion of our Christian blood And stablish quietness on every side. King. Aye, marry, uncle; for I always thought It was both impious and unnatural That such immanity and bloody strife Should reign among professors of one faith. Glou. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect And surer bind this knot of amity,

The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles,

17. "Knit," the reading of the Ff.; Pope first suggested “kin,” which was also adopted by Theobald, Hanmer, Warburton, and Johnson; Capell restored "knit,” which was adopted by Steevens and Malone. The Cambridge editions see in "knit," "a conceit suggested by the 'Knot of amity' in the preceding line.”—I. G.

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