SCENE II. France. Before Bordeaux.

Enter TALBOT, with his Forces.

Tal. Go to the gates of Bordeaux, 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 our 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 man,
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 musick 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 O, negligent and heedless discipline! [wings.-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; But rather moody-mad, and desperate stags, Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel, And make the cowards stand aloof at bay: Sell every man his life as dear as mine, And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.God, and Saint George! Talbot, and England's right!

Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Plains in Gascony.

Enter YORK, with Forces; to him a Messenger. York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again, That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin? Mess. They are return'd, my lord; and give it out,

That be is march'd to Bordeaux 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 Bordeaux.

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 louted 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.

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 waist of iron,
And hemm'd about with grim destruction:
To Bordeaux, warlike duke! to Bordeaux, 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, 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 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 joys 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.

Lucy. Thus, while the vulture of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, That ever living man of memory,

Henry the Fifth-Whiles they each other cross, Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss.

[Exit.

SCENE IV. Other Plains of Gascony.

Enter SOMERSET, with his Forces; 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'ermatch'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,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset,
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 ling'ring, looks for rescue,
You, his false hopes, the trust of England's ho-

nour,

Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.

Let not your private discord keep away
The levied succours that should lend him aid,
Whiles he, renowned noble gentleman,
Yields up his life unto a world of odds:
Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy,
Alencon, 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 ex claims;

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, betrayed to fortune by your strife.
Som. Come, go; I will despatch the horse-
men 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 [Exeunt.

in you.

SCENE V. The English Camp, near Bordeaux.

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,-0 malignant and ill boding stars!-
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger: Thorse;
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest
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.