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Ten thousand French have ta'en the facrament,
To rive their dangerous artillery
Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.
Lo! there thou stand'ít, a breathing valiant man,
Of an invincible, unconquer'd spirit :
This is the latest glory of thy praise,
That I thy enemy dew thee withal;
For ere the glass that now begins to run
Finish the process of this fandy hour,

eyes that see thee now well coloured, Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead.

[Drum afar off. Hark! hark! the Dauphin's drum, a warning-bell, Sings heavy music to thy tim'rous soul; And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

[Exit from the walls. Tal. He fables not: I hear the enemy, Out, some light horfemen, and peruse their wings. O, negligent and heedless discipline ! How are we park'd and bounded in a pale ! A little herd of England's tim'rous deer, Maz’d with a yelping kennel of Frencli cürs. If we be English deer, be then in blood; Not rascal-likė, to fall down with a pinch ; But rather moody, mad, and desp’rate stags, Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel, And make the cowards stand aloof at bay. God and St. George, Talbot, and England's right, Profper our colours in this dangerous hight! [Exeunt.


SCENE IV. Another part of France. Enter a Mesenger, that meets York. Enter York, with

trumpet and many soldiers. York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again, That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin?

Mell. They are return'd, my Lord, and give it out That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his pow'r, To fight with Talbot ; as he march'd along,

aloof at bay:
Sell every man his lite as dear as mine,
And hey shall find dear deer of us, my friends.
God na S, George, & c.

Vol. IV.

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By your efpyals were discovered
Two mightier troops than that the Dauphinled, [deaux,
Which join’d with him, and made their march for Bour-

York. A plague upon that villain Somerset,
That thus delays my promised supply
Of horsemen that were levied for this fiege!
Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid,
And I am lowted by a traitor villain,
And cannot help the noble chevalier :
God comfort him in this necessity !
If he miscarry, farewel wars in France.

Enter Sir William Lucy.
Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English strength,
Never so needful on the earth of France,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot ;
Who now is. girdled with a waste of iron,
And hemm'd about with grim destruction :
To Bourdeaux, warlike Duke; to Bourdeaux, York!
Else farewel, Talbot, France, and England's honour:

York. O God! that Somerset, who in proud heart
Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place !
So should we fave a valiant gentleman,
By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.
Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep,
That thus we die while remiss traitors sleep.

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 towards his warlike father.
This fev'n years did not Talbot see his son,
And now they meet where both their lives are done,

York. Alas! what joy shall Noble Talbot have,
To bid his young fon welcome to his grave !
Away! vexation almost stops my breath,
That fundred friends greet in the hour of death.
Lucy, farewel; no more my fortune can,
But curse the cause; I cannot aid the man.
Maine, Bloys, Poiétiers, and Tours are won away,


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Long all of Somerset, and his delay. [Exit.

Lucy. Thus while the vulture of fedition Feeds in the bofom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss The conquelts of our scarce-cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory, Henry the Fifth While they each other cross, Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to lois. [Exit. SCENE V. Another part of France.

Enter Somerset, with his army. Som. It is too late ; I cannot send them now: This expedition was by York and Talbot Too rathly plotted. All our gen'ral force Might with a fally of the very town Be buckled with. The over-daring Talbot Hath fullied all his glofs of former honour By this unheedful, desp'rate, wild adventure, York set him on to fight, and die in thame, That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.

Capt. 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 told Lord Who, wring'd about with bold adverlity, [Talbot; Cries out for Noble York and Somerset, To beat atlailing death from his weak legions. And while the honourable Captain there Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs, And, in advantge ling'ring, looks for refcue ; You, his falle hopes, the truit of England's honour, Keep off aloof with worthless emulation, Let not your private discord keep away The levied fuccours that thould lend him aid; While he, renowned noble gentleman, Yields up his life unto a world of odds. Orleans the Battard, Charles, and Burgundy, Alanson, Reignier, compass him about; And Talbot perisheth by your default. Sows. York let him on, York lliould have sent him aid,


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Lucy. And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims; Swearing, that you with-hold his levied horse, Collected for this expedition.

Som. York lyes: he might have fent, and had the I owe him little duty, and less love,

[horse: And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.

Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now intrapt 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 dispatch the horsemen strait: Within fix hours they will be at his aid.

Lucy. Too late comes rescue; he is ta’en or Nain; 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 VI. A field of battle near Bourdeaux.

Enter Talbot, and his fon.
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, О malignant and ill-boding stars!
Now art thou come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger.
Therefore, dear boy, mount on thy swiftest horse,
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight. Come, dally not; be gone.
John. Is my name Talbot? and am I


And shall I fy? O! if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,
To make a bastard and a flave 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 sain.
Jokin. He that flies fo, will ne'er return again.
Straiagem, for art fimply.


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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 boalt ;
In your's they will, in you all hopes are loit.
Flight cannot stain the honour


have won:
But mine it will, that no exploit have done.
You fled for vantage, ev'ry one will swear :
But if I bow, they'll say it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will itay,
If the first hour I shrink and run away.
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 iny mother's womb.
Tal. Upon my blefling I command thee go.
John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
Tal. Part of thy father may be fav'd in thee.
John. No part of him but will be thame in me.
Tal. Thou never hadît renown, nor canst not lose it.
John. Yes, your renowned name; thall flight abuse it?
Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that

John. You cannot witness for me, being Nain.
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 foul from France to heaven fly. [Exennt. Alarm : excursions, wherein Talbot's son ishemm'd about,

and Talbot rescues him, Tal. St. George, and victory! fight, soldiers, fight. Mortality, for dearb.


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