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Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb? John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.

Tal. Upon my blessing, I command thee go.
John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
Tal. Part of thy father may be saved in thee.
John. No part of him, but will be shame in me.
Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not
lose it.

John. Yes, your renowned name: shall flight abuse it?

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 severed 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 son, Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.

Come, side by side together live and die;

And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.

SCENE VI. A Field of Battle.

[Exeunt.

Alarum: 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 rescued thee from death.

John. O, twice my father! twice am I thy son:
The life thou gav'st me first, was lost and done;
Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
To my determined' time thou gav'st new date.
Tal. When from the dauphin's crest thy sword
struck fire,

It warmed thy father's heart with proud desire
Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age,
Quickened with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alençon, Orleans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia rescued 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 thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art sealed 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 shortening 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;

All these are saved if thou wilt fly away.

1 Determined here must signify prescribed, limited, appointed.

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 proved, 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 ?Triumphant death, smeared with captivity!— Young Talbot's valor makes me smile at thee:When he perceived me shrink, and on my knee, His bloody sword he brandished over me, And, like a hungry lion, did commence Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience; But when my angry guardant stood alone, Tendering my ruin,2 and assailed of none, Dizzy-eyed fury, and great rage of heart, Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clustering battle of the French; And in that sea of blood my boy did drench

1 i. e. compare me, reduce me to a level by comparison.
2 "Watching me with tenderness in my fall."

VOL. IV.

38

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 antic death, which laugh'st us here to

scorn,

Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,

Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots, winged through the lither1 sky,
In thy despite shall 'scape mortality.-

O thou, whose wounds become hard-favored 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 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 harms.
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 ragingwood,2

Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!
Puc. Once I encountered him, and thus I said,
Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid.

1 Lither is flexible, pliant, yielding.

2 Wood signified furious as well as mad; raging-wood is certainly here furiously raging.

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 inhearsed in the arms

Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.

Bas. 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 obtained 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,3 Waterford, and Valence;

1 A giglot is a wanton wench. "A minx, gigle (or giglet), flirt, callet, or gixie," says Cotgrave.

2 Lucy's message implied that he knew who had obtained the victory: therefore Hanmer reads:

"Herald, conduct me to the dauphin's tent."

3 Wexford, in Ireland, was anciently called Weysford. In Crompton's Mansion of Magnanimitie, 1599, it is written, as here, Washford. This long list of titles is from the epitaph formerly existent on lord Talbot's tomb at Rouen. It is to be found in the work above cited, with one other, "lord Lovetoft of Worsop," which would not easily fall into the verse. It concludes as here, and adds, "who died in the battle of Burdeaux, 1453."

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