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 Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death, And strong enough to issue out and fight: And no way canst thou turn thee for redress, Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot Hark! hark! the Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, Sings heavy musick to thy timorous soul; [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, 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! Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English strength, Never so needful on the earth of France, Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot; York. O God! that Somerset-who in proud 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! York. Alas! what joys shall noble Talbot have, Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can, 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, nour, Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. Let not your private discord keep away 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, 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. Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot: 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, John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your son? 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. |