The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
And left us to the rage of France's fword.
Where is John Talbot? Paufe, and take thy breath;
gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death.

1

John. O, twice my father! twice am I thy fon. The life thou gav'ft me firft was loft and done, Till with thy warlike fword, despight of fate, To my determin'd time thou gav'ft new date.

Tal. When from the Dauphin's creft thy fword ftruck
It warm'd thy father's heart with proud defire [fire,
Of bold-face'd victory. Then leaden age
Quicken'd with youthful fpleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alanion, Orleans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee.
The ireful baftard Orleans, that drew blood
From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
Of thy first fight, I foon encountered;
And, interchanging blows, I quickly fhed
Some of his baftard-blood; and in difgrace
Bespoke him thus. Contaminated, bafe,
And mifbegotten 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, purpofing the baftard to destroy,

Came in ftrong refcue. Speak, thy father's care,
Art not thou weary, John? how doft thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art feal'd the fon of chivalry?
Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead;
The help of one ftands me in little ftead.
Oh, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one fmall boat.
If I to-day die not with Frenchmens' rage,
To-morrow I fhall die with mickle age.
By me they nothing gain; and if I stay,
'Tis but the fhort'ning of my life one day.
In thee thy mother dies, our houfhold's name,
My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
All thefe, and more, we hazard by thy ftay;
All thefe are fav'd if thou wilt fly away.

John. The fword of Orleans hath not made me fmart; "Thefe words of your's draw life-blood from my heart.

Out

Out on that vantage bought with fuch a fhame,
To fave a paltry life, and flay bright fame!
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horfe that bears me, fall and die!
And like me to the peafant-boys of France,
To be fhame's fcorn, and subject of mifchance.
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An' if I fly, I am not Talbot's fon!
Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;
If fon to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy defp'rate fire of Crete, Thou Icarus! thy life to me is sweet.

If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's fide;
And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride. [Exeunt.

Alarm: excurfions. Enter old Talbot, led.

Tal. Where is my other life? mine own is gone. O! where's young Talbot? where is valiant John ? › Triumphant Death, smear'd with captivity! Young Talbot's valour makes me fmile at thee. When he perceiv'd me fhrink, and on my knee, His bloody fword he brandifh'd over me; And, like a hungry lion, did commence Rough deeds of rage, and ftern impatience. But when my angry guardant ftood alone, Tend'ring my ruin, and affail'd of none, Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart Suddenly made him from my fide to start, Into the cluft'ring battle of the French : And, in that fea of blood, my boy did drench His over-mounting spirit; and there dy'd My Icarus! my bloffom in his pride!

Enter John Talbot, borne.

Serv. O my dear Lord! lo! where your fon is borne. Tal. Thou antic Death, which laugh'ft us here to Anon, from thy infulting tyranny,

Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots winged through the lither sky,
In thy defpight, fhall 'fcape mortality.

[fcorn,

O thou,

O thou, whofe wounds become hard favour'd death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath. *
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

ACT V. SCENE I.

Continues near Bourdeaux.

Enter Dauphin, Alanfon, Burgundy, Bafiard and Pu

Dau.

H

celle.

AD York and Somerfet brought rescue in,
We fhould have found a bloody day of this.
Baft. How the young whelp of Talbot's raging brood
Did flesh his puny fword in Frenchmens' blood!
Pucel. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I faid:
"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 inherfed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.

Baft. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder; Whofe life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder. Dau. Oh, no; forbear: for that which we have fled During the life, let us not wrong it dead.

Enter Sir William Lucy.

Lucy. Conduct me to the Dauphin's tent, to know Who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.

Dau. On what submissive message art thou fent ?

yield thy breath.

Brave Death by fpeaking, 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, &c.

Lucy. Submiffion, Dauphin? 'tis a mere French word We English warriors wot not what it means.

I come to know what prifoners thou haft ta’en,
And to furvey the bodies of the dead.

Dan. For prifoners aik'it thou? hell our prison is. But tell me whom thou feek'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 Wathford, Waterford, and Valence,
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield;

Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton,
Lord Cromwel of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Shef-
The thrice victorious Lord of Faulconbridge, [field,
Knight of the noble order of St. George,
Worthy St Michael, and the Golden Fleece,
Great Marshal to our King Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France.

Pucel. Here is a filly, fately tyle, indeed.
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not fo tedious a style as this.

Him that thou magnify't with all these titles,
Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet.

Lucy. Is Talbot flain, the Frenchmens' only fcourge,
Your kingdom's terror and black Nemefis?
Oh, were mine eye-balls into bullets tu n'd,
That I in rage might fhoot them at your faces !
Oh, that I could but call these dead to life,
It were enough to fright the realm of France !
Were but his picture left among you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all:

Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence, And give them burial as beseems their worth.

Pucel. I think this upitart is old Talbot's ghoft, He speaks with fuch a proud commanding spirit. For God's fake, let him have 'em; to keep them here. They would but ftink and putrify the air.

Dau. Go, take their bodies hence.

Lucy. I'll bear them hence:

But from their afhes, Dauphin, fhall be rear'd
A phoenix that fhall make all France afear'd.
VOL. IV.

3 D

Dau.

Dau. So we be rid of them, do what thou wilt.

And now to Paris, in this conqu’ring vein;

All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's flain. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Changes to England.
Enter King Henry, Gloucefter, and Exeter.

K. Henry. Have you perus'd the letters from the Pope,
The Emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac ?
Glou. I have, my Lord; and their intent is this,
They humbly fue unto your Excellence,

To have a godly peace concluded of,

Between the realms of England and of France.

K. Henry. How doth your Grace affect this motion? Glou. Well, my good Lord; and as the only means To ftop effufion of our Chriftian blood,

And stablish quietnefs on ev'ry fide.

K. Henry. Ay, marry, uncle, for I always thought It was both impious and unnatural,

That fuch immanity and bloody ftrife

Should reign among profeffors of one faith.

Glou. Befide, my Lord, the fooner to effect

And furer bind this knot of amity,

The Earl of Armagnac, near kin to Charles,
A man of great authority in France,

Proffers his only daughter to your Grace

In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
K. Henry. Marriage? alas! my years are yet too'
And fitter is my study and my books,

Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
Yet call th' ambaffadors; and, as you please,
So let them have their anfwers ev'ry one.

[young;

I fhall be well content with any choice
Tends to God's glory, and my country's weal.

Enter Winchester, and three Ambafadors. Exe. What, is my Lord of Winchester install'd, And call'd unto a Cardinal's degree?

Then I perceive that will be verify'd

Henry the Fifth did fometime prophefy: "If once he came to be a Cardinal,

"He'll make his cap coequal with the crown."

K. Henry.