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 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 renownèd 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 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 rescu'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 thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art seal'd 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 short'ning 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 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:

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 prov'd, let's die in pride.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.-Another Part of the Field. 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, smear'd with captivity,
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee.-
When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandish'd 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, and assail'd of none,
Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart,
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust'ring battle of the French;
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His overmounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Serv. O, my dear lord, lo, where your son is borne!

Enter Soldiers, bearing the body of JOHN TALBOT. Tal. Thou antick, death, which laugh'st us here

Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.

[Dias. Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving the two bodies. Enter CHARLES, ALENÇON, BURGUNDY, the BasTARD OF ORLEans, 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 wood,

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 inhersed in the arms
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: a French Herald 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

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, Waterford, and Valence; Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,

Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton, Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, lord Furnival of Sheffield,

The thrice victorious lord of Faulconbridge;
Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the golden fleece;
Great mareshal to Henry the sixth,

Of all his wars within the realm of France?
Pue. 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 Frenchmen's only

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,

They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
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.

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter KING Henry, Gloster, and EXETER.
K. Hen. Have you perus'd the letters from the

pope,

The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac?

Glo. 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. K. Hen. How doth your grace affect their motion?

Glo. Well, my good lord; and as the only means To stop effusion of our Christian blood, And 'stablish quietness on every side.

K. Hen. Ay, 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.

Glo. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect
And surer bind this knot of amity,

The earl of Armagnac,- -near knit 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. Hen. Marriage, uncle! alas, my years are

young;

And fitter is my study and my books,
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
Yet, call th' embassadors; and, as you please,
So let them have their answers every one:

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

Enter a Legate, and two Embassadors, with WINCHESTER,
NOW CARDINAL BEAUFORT, and habited accordingly.
Exe. [Aside.] What, is my lord of Winchester
install'd,

And call'd unto a cardinal's degree?
Then, I perceive that will be verified,
Henry the fifth did sometime prophesy,—
"If once he come to be a cardinal,

He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown."

K. Hen. My lords embassadors, your several suits Have been consider'd, and debated on. Your purpose is both good and reasonable; And therefore are we certainly resolv'd To draw conditions of a friendly peace; Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean Shall be transported presently to France.

Glo. And for the proffer of my lord, your master,

I have inform'd his highness so at large,
As,-liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
Her beauty, and the value of her dower,-
He doth intend she shall be England's queen.

K. Hen. [To the Emb.] In argument and proof of which contract,

Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.-
And so, my lord protector, see them guarded,
And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd,
Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

[Exeunt KING HENRY and train; GLOS-
TER, EXETER, and Embassadors.

Win. Stay, my lord legate: you shall first receive The sum of money, which I promised Should be deliver'd to his holiness For clothing me in these grave ornaments.

Leg. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.

[Exit.

Win. Now, Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferior to the proudest peer. Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive, That, neither in birth, or for authority, The bishop will be overborne by thee:

I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee, Or sack this country with a mutiny.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-FRANCE. Plains in ANJOU. Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENÇON, LA PUCELLE and forces, marching.

Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping spirits:

'Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt, And turn again unto the warlike French.

Alen. Then, march to Paris, royal Charles of
France,

And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;
Else, ruin combat with their palaces!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Success unto our valiant general, And happiness to his accomplices!

Char. What tidings send our scouts? I pr'ythee, speak.

Mess. The English army, that divided was Into two parties, is now conjoin'd in one, And means to give you battle presently.

Char. Somewhat too sudden, Sirs, the warning is; But we will presently provide for them.

Bur. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there: Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.

Puc. Of all base passions, fear is most accurs'd:Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine; Let Henry fret, and all the world repine.

Char. Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate! [Exeunt.

Enter Fiends.

This speedy and quick appearance argues proof
Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd
Out of the powerful legions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the field.-
[They walk about, and speak not.
O, hold me not with silence over-long.
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
I'll lop a member off, and give it you,
In earnest of a farther benefit;

So you do condescend to help me now.

[They hang their heads. No hope to have redress?-My body shall Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.[They shake their heads. Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice, Entreat you to your wonted fartherance? Then take my soul,-my body, soul, and all, Before that England give the French the foil.

[They depart. See, they forsake me! Now the time is come, That France must vail her lofty-plumèd crest, And let her head fall into England's lap. My ancient incantations are too weak, And hell too strong for me to buckle with: Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.

[Exit.

Alarum. Enter French and English fighting; La PuCELLE and YORK fight hand to hand: LA PUCELLE is taken. The French fly.

York. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast: Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms, And try if they can gain your liberty.A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace! See, how the ugly witch doth bend her brows, As if, with Circe, she would change my shape.

Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be.
York. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man;
No shape but his can please your dainty eye.
Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles, and
thee!

And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd
By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!
York. Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy
tongue!

Pue. I pr'ythee, give me leave to curse a while.
York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the
stake.
[Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter SUFFOLK, leading in Lady MARGARET.
Suf. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.
[Gazes on her.

O fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly,
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands,
And lay them gently on thy tender side.

I kiss these fingers [Kissing her hand] for eternal

peace:

Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee.

Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a king,

The king of Naples,-whosoe'er thou art.

Suf. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd.

Be not offended, nature's miracle,

Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me:
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings.
Yet if this servile usage once offend,

Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend.

[She turns away as going.

Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth;
There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk.
Solicit Henry with her wond'rous praise:
Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount
Mad natural graces that extinguish art;
Repeat their semblance often on the seas,
That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet,
Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder.

[Exit. SCENE IV.-Camp of the DUKE OF YORK, in ANJOU.

Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others.

York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd to burn.

Enter LA PUCELLE, guarded: and a Shepherd. Shep. Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart outright!

Have I sought every country far and near,
And, now it is my chance to find thee out,
Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?

Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee!
Puc. Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!

I am descended of a gentler blood:

Thou art no father, nor no friend, of mine.

Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,
But issu'd from the progeny of kings;
Virtuous, and holy; chosen from above,
By inspiration of celestial grace,

To work exceeding miracles on earth.
I never had to do with wicked spirits:
But you, that are polluted with your lusts,
Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,
Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,-
Because you want the grace that others have,
You judge it straight a thing impossible
To compass wonders, but by help of devils.
No; misconceived Joan of Arc hath been
Á virgin from her tender infancy,
Chaste and immaculate in very thought;
Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd,
Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.
York. Ay, ay;-away with her to execution!
War. And hark ye, Sirs; because she is a maid,
Spare for no fagots, let there be enow:
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,
That so her torture may be shortened.

Puc. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?-
Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity,
That warranteth by law to be thy privilege.-
I am with child, ye bloody homicides:
Murder not, then, the fruit within my womb,
Although ye hale me to a violent death.

York. Now, heaven forefend! the holy maid with

child!

Puc. You are deceiv'd; my child is none of his : It was Alençon that enjoy'd my love.

York. Alençon! that notorious Machiavel! It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.

Puc. O, give me leave, I have deluded you: 'Twas neither Charles, nor yet the duke I nam'd, But Reignier, king of Naples, that prevail'd.

War. A married man! that's most intolerable. York. Why, here's a girl! I think she knows not well,

There were so many, whom she may accuse.

War. It's sign she hath been liberal and free. York. And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee: Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.

Puc. Then lead me hence;-with whom I leave my curse:

May never glorious sun, reflex his beams
Upon the country where you make abode;
But darkness and the gloomy shade of death