Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first. Bas. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord. Glo. Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife! And perish ye, with your audacious prate! Presumptuous vassals! are you not asham'd, With this immodest clamorous outrage To trouble and disturb the king and us? And you, my lords, methinks, you do not well, To bear with their perverse objections; Much less, to take occasion from their mouths To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves: Let me persuade you take a better course.

Exe. It grieves his highness :-good my lords, be friends.

K. Hen. Come hither, you that would be combatants.

Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our favour,
Quite to forget this quarrel, and the cause.—
And you, my lords, remember where we are;
In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation.
If they perceive dissension in our looks,
And that within ourselves we disagree,
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd
To wilful disobedience, and rebel?
Beside, what infamy will there arise,
When foreign princes shall be certified,
That for a toy, a thing of no regard,
King Henry's peers, and chief nobility,
Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France?
O! think upon the conquest of my father,
My tender years; and let us not forego
That for a trifle, that was bought with blood.
Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.
I see no reason, if I wear this rose,

[Putting on a red Rose.
That any one should therefore be suspicious
I more incline to Somerset, than York:
Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both.
As well they may upbraid me with my crown,
Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd.
But your discretions better can persuade,
Than I am able to instruct or teach:
And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
So let us still continue peace and love.-
Cousin of York, we institute your grace
To be our regent in these parts of France:-
And good my lord of Somerset, unite

Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;
And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,
Go cheerfully together, and digest

Your angry choler on your enemies.
Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest,
After some respite, will return to Calais;

From thence to England; where I hope ere long
To be presented by your victories
With Charles, Alençon, and that traitorous rout.
[Flourish. Exeunt King HENRY, GLOSTER,

SOMERSET, WINCHESTER, SUFFOLK, and
BASSET.

War. My lord of York, I promise you, the king Prettily, methought, did play the orator.

York. And so he did; but yet I like it not, In that he wears the badge of Somerset.

War. Tush! that was but his fancy, blame him not;

I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. York. And, if I wist, he did,-But let it rest; Other affairs must now be managed.

[Exeunt YORK, WARWICK, and VERNON. Exc. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice;

For, had the passions of thy heart burst out,
I fear, we should have seen decipher'd there
More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,
Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd.
But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees
This jarring discord of nobility,

This shouldering of each other in the court,
This factious bandying of their favourites,
But that it doth presage some ill event.
'Tis much, when sceptres are in children's hands,
But more, when envy breeds unkind division:
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.

[Erit

SCENE II.-France. Before Bourdeaux.
Enter TALBOT, with his Forces.
Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter:
Summon their general unto the wall.

Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, on the Walls,
the General of the French Forces, and others.
English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,
Servant in arms to Harry king of England;
And thus he would.-Open your city gates,
Be humble to us, call my sovereign yours,
And do him homage as obedient subjects,
And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power;
But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace,
You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire,
Who, in a moment, even with the earth
Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers,
If you forsake the offer of their love.

Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death,
Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge,
The period of thy tyranny approacheth.
On us thou canst not enter but by death;
For, I protest, we are well fortified,
And strong enough to issue out and fight:
If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed,
Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee.
On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd
To wall thee from the liberty of flight,
And no way canst thou turn thee for redress,
But death doth front thee with apparent spoil,
And pale destruction meets thee in the face.
Ten thousand French have ta’en the sacrament.
To rive their dangerous artillery

Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.
Lo! there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant inau,
Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit:
This is the latest glory of thy praise,
That I, thy enemy, 'due thee withal;
For ere the glass, that now begins to run,
Finish the process of his sandy hour,
These 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 timorous soul;
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

[Exeunt General, &c. from the Walls.
Tal. He fables not; I hear the enemy.-
Out, some light horsemen, 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 timorous deer,
Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs!
If we be English deer, be then in blood;
Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch,

out,

That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power,
To fight with Talbot. As he march'd along,
By your espials were discovered

Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led,
Which join'd with him, and made their march for
Bourdeaux.

York. A plague upon that villain Somerset,
That thus delays my promised supply

Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege!
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, farewell wars in France.

Enter Sir WILLIAM LUCY.

SCENE IV. Other Plains of Gascony. Enter SOMERSET, with his Army; 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

Be buckled with. The over-daring Talbot
Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour,
By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure.
York set him on to fight, and die in shame,
That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the

name.

Off. 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 sold lord. Talbot;

Who, ring'd about with bold adversity,

strength,

Never so needful on the earth of France,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot,
Who now is girdled with a waist of iron,
And hemm'd about with grim destruction.

To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, York!
Else, farewell 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 save a valiant gentleman,
By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.

Mad ire, and wrathful fury, make 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 toward his warlike father.
This seven 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 son welcome to his grave! Away! vexation almost stops my breath, That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death.— Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can, But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away, 'Long all of Somerset, and his delay.

[Exit YORK, with his Forces.

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

Som. York set him on, York should have sent him aid.

Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace exclaims;

Swearing that you withhold his levied host,
Collected for this expedition.

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 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
[Exeunt.

you.

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 reviv'd, 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: Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse, And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape By sudden flight: come, dally not; begone.

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 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 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, 34

If the first hour I shrink, and run away. Here, on my knee, I beg mortality, kather 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 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 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.
[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 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 warmed 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 misbegotton 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, and 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 Same. Alarums: 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.
Enter Soldiers, bearing the body of JOHN TALBOT.
Serv. O, my dear lord! lo, where your son is
borne !

Tal. Thou antick, death, which laugh'st us here to scorn,

Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
In thy despite shall 'scape mortality.-

O! thou whose wounds become hard-favour'd death,
Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath:
Brave death by speaking, 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, 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.
Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving
the two Bodies. Enter CHARLES, ALENÇON,
BURGUNDY, Bastard, 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 answered 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.