.

Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour,
By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure
York set him on to fight, and die in shame,
That, Talbot dead, great York might hear 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 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
honour,

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, 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 withold his levied host,
Collected for this expedition,

Som. York lies; he might have sent, and had the horse:

I owe him little duty, and less love;

And take foul scorn, to fawn on him by sending. Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force of France,

Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot:
Never to England shall he bear his life;
But dies, betray'd. to fortune by your strife.
Som. Come, go; I will despatch the horse-
men straight:

Within six hours they will be at his aid.

Lucy. Too late comes rescue; he is talen, or slain:

For fly he could not, if he would have fled; And fly 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, [Exeunt

SCENE V.

The English Camp near Bourdeaux.

Enter TALBOT and John his son..

Tal. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee, To tutor thee in stratagems of war;

That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd,
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs,
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But, O malignant and ill-boding stars! →
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger:

Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse;.

And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight; come, dally not, begone.
John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your
son?

And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour nat her honourable name,
To make a bastard, and a slave of me
The world will say - He is not Talbot's blood,
That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood.
Tal, Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain,
John. He, that flies so, will ne'r return again.
Tal, If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
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, 1 shrink, and run away.`
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,

Rather than life preserv'd with infamy. 1

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 fue, Tal. Part of thy father may be sav'd in

thee.

John. No part of him, but will be shame

in me.

Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor

not lose it.

canst

John. Yes, your renowned name; Shall flight

abuse it?

1

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 1;
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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

A Field of Battle.

Alarum: Excursions, wherein Talbot's son is hemm'd 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 resçu'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;

Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
To 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 dost thou fare? Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly, Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?