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

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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 lingering looks for rescue,

You, his false hopes, the trust of England's

honour,

Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.

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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, Burgundy,
Alençon, Reignier, compass him about,
And Talbot perisheth by your default.

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Som. York set him on; York should have sent

him aid.

Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace ex

claims,

Swearing that you withhold his levied host

Collected for this expedition.

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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. 35 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 dispatch the horsemen
straight.

Within six hours they will be at his aid.
Lucy.

Too late comes rescue: 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 To tutor thee in stratagems of war,

That Talbot's name might be in thee revived

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.

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Therefore, dear boy, mount on my 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 your

son?

And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour not 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'er return again.
Tal. If we both stay, we both are

John.

die.

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sure to 20

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 I shrink and run away.

Here on my knee I beg mortality,
Rather than life preserved with infamy.

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Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one

tomb?

T

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 saved 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 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.

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[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. A field of battle.

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 rescued thee from death.

John. O, twice my father, twice am I thy son!
The life thou gavest me first was lost and done,
Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
To my determined time thou gavest 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-faced victory. Then leaden age,
Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alençon, Orleans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia rescued 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,

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