To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, York! Mad ire, and wrathful fury, makes me weep, 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. That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death.— 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, The conquest of our scarce-cold That ever-living man of memory, conqueror, Henry the fifth-Whiles they each other cross, SCENE IV. Other Plains of GASCONY. [Exit. [Exit. 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 Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY. Som. How now, sir William? whither were you sent? Lucy. Whither, my lord? from bought and sold lord Who, ring'd about with bold adversity, [Talbot; Cries out for noble York and Somerset, To beat assailing death from his weak legions. Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs, Som. York set him on, York should have sent him aid. 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 horsemen straight: Within six hours they will be at his aid. Lucy. Too late comes reseué; he is ta'en, 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, That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd, your son? Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse; Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. Here, on my knee, I beg mortality, Rather than life preserv'd with infamy. 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 will, but not to fly the foe. 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 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 sever'd 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 1 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 hemmed about, and TALBOT rescues him. Tul. 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; gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death. I John. O twice my father! twice am I thy son: The life, thou gav'st me first, was lost and done; [fire, Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age, Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care; To hazard all our lives in one small boat. All these are sav'd, if thou wilt fly away. 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: |