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. Alarum: 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, Tend'ring 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-favoured 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, BUR-
GUNDY, Bastard, LA PUCKLLE, 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.

Great earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence; Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,

Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, lord Furnival of
Sheffield,

The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge;
Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the golden fleece;
Great mareshal to Henry the sixth,
Of all his wars within the realm of France?

Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed!
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles,
Stinking, and fly-blown, lies here at our feet.

――――

Lucy. Is Talbot slain; the Frenchmen's only scourge,

Your kingdom's terrour and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
That I, in rage, might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but call these dead to life!
It were enough to fright the realm of France:
Were but his picture left among you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies; that I may bear them hence,
And give them burial as beseems their worth.

Puc. I think, this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep them here,

They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
Char. Go, take their bodies hence.
Lucy.
I'll bear them hence
But from their ashes shall be rear'd
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
Char. So we be rid of them, do with 'em what
thou wilt.

And now to Paris, in this conquering vein; All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.

[Exeunt.

Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
I'll lop a member off, and give it you,
In earnest of a further benefit;

So you do condescend to help me now. —
[They hang their heads.
No hope to have redress? My body shall
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.
[They shake their heads.
Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice,
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?
Then take my soul; my body, soul, and all,
Before that England give the French the foil.
[They depart.
See! they forsake me. Now the time is come,
That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest,
And let her head fall into England's lap.
My ancient incantations are too weak,
And hell too strong for me to buckle with:
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. [Erit.
Alarums. Enter French and English, fighting.
LA PUCELLE and YORK fight hand to hand.
PUCELLE is taken. The French fly.

LA

York. Damsel of France, I think, I have you fast: Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms, And try if they can gain your liberty. A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace! See, how the ugly witch doth bend her brows, As if, with Circe, she would change my shape.

Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou can'st not be. York. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man; No shape but his can please your dainty eye. Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles, and thee!

Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy prisoner?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
Ay; beauty's princely majesty is such,
Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough.
Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk, -if thy name be so,
What ransome must I pay before I pass?
For, I perceive, I am thy prisoner.

Suf. How canst thou tell, she will deny thy suit, Before thou make a trial of her love? [Aside. Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransome must I pay?

Suf. She's beautiful; and therefore to be woo'd: She is a woman; therefore to be won. [Aside. Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransome, yea, or no? Suf. Fond man! remember, that thou hast a wife; Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? [Aside. Mar. I were best leave him, for he will not hear. Suf. There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling

card.

peace : Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee.

Mar. Margaret my name; and daughter to a king, The king of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.

Suf. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd. Be not offended, nature's miracle, Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me : So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings. Yet if this servile usage once offend, Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend. [She turns away as going. O, stay! I have no power to let her pass; My hand would free her, but my heart says As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, Twinkling another counterfeited beam, So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak : I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind: Fye, De la Poole! disable not thyself;

-no.

Mar. He talks at random; sure, the man is mad. Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had. Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me. Suf. I'll win this lady Margaret. For whom? Why, for my king: Tush! that's a wooden thing. Mar. He talks of wood: It is some carpenter. Suf. Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, And peace established between these realms. But there remains a scruple in that too: For though her father be the king of Naples, Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, And our nobility will scorn the match.

[Aside.

Mar. Hear ye, captain? Are you not at leisure? Suf. It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much : Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield. Madam, I have a secret to reveal.

Mar. What though I be enthrall'd? he seems a knight,

And will not any way dishonour me.

[Aside.

Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. Mar. Perhaps, I shall be rescu'd by the French; And then I need not crave his courtesy. [Aside.

Suf. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause — Mar. Tush! women have been captivate ere now. [Aside.

To put a golden scepter in thy hand,

And set a precious crown upon thy head,
If thou wilt condescend to be my
Mar.

What?

Suf.

If happy England's royal king be free.

Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me? Suf. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen;

Suf. His love.

Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. Suf. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am To woo so fair a dame to be his wife, And have no portion in the choice myself. How say you, madam; are you so content?

Mar. An if my father please, I am content. Suf. Then call our captains, and our colours, forth: And, madam, at your father's castle walls We'll crave a parley, to confer with him.

[Troops come forward.

A Parley sounded.

Enter REIGNIER, on the walls. Suf. See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner. Reig. To whom?

Suf.

To me.

Reig.
I am a soldier: and unapt to weep,
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.

Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord: Consent, (and, for thy honour, give consent,) Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king; Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto; And this her easy-held imprisonment Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty. Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks? Suf. Fair Margaret knows That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign. Reig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend, To give thee answer of thy just demand.

[Exit, from the walls. Suf. And here I will expect thy coming. Trumpets sounded. Enter REIGNIER, below. Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our territories; Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.

Suf. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child, Fit to be made companion with a king: What answer makes your grace unto my suit? Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth,

To be the princely bride of such a lord;
Upon condition I may quietly
Enjoy mine own, the county Maine, and Anjou,
Free from oppression, or the stroke of war,
My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.

Suf. That is her ransome, I deliver her;
And those two counties, I will undertake,
Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy.
Reig. And I again, in Henry's royal name,
As deputy unto that gracious king,
Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.

[Aside.

Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks, Because this is in traffick of a king: And yet, methinks, I could be well content To be mine own attorney in this case. I'll over then to England with this news, And make this marriage to be solemniz'd ; So, farewell, Reignier! Set this diamond safe In golden palaces, as it becomes.

Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Christian prince, king Henry, were he here. Mar. Farewell, my lord! Good wishes, praise, and prayers, Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.

[Going.

Suf. Farewell, sweet madam! But hark you, Margaret;

No princely commendations to my king?

Mar. Such commendations as become a maid, A virgin, and his servant, say to him.

Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestly directed. But, madam, I must trouble you again, No loving token to his majesty?

Enter LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a Shepherd. Shep. Ah, Joan! this kills thy father's heart outright!

Have I sought every country far and near,
And, now it is my chance to find thee out,
Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?
Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee!
Puc. Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!
I am descended of a gentler blood;
Thou art no father, nor no friend, of mine.

Shep. Out, out! - My lords, an please you, 'tis

not so;

I did beget her, all tne parish knows :
Her mother liveth yet, can testify,
She was the first fruit of my bachelorship.
War. Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage?
York. This argues what her kind of life hath been;
Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.

breast,
Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake!

Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field,
I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee!
Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab?

O, burn her, burn her; hanging is too good. [Exit.
York Take her away; for she hath liv'd too long,
To fill the world with vicious qualities.

Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have con demn'd:

Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,
But issu'd from the progeny of kings;
Virtuous, and holy; chosen from above,
By inspiration of celestial grace,

To work exceeding miracles on earth.
I never had to do with wicked spirits:
But you,- that are polluted with your lusts,
Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,
Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, -
Because you want the grace that others have,
You judge it straight a thing impossible
To compass wonders, but by help of devils.
No, misconceiv'd! Joan of Arc hath been

There were so many, whom she may accuse.

War. It's sign, she hath been liberal and free. York. And, yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat, and thee: Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.

Puc. Then lead me hence; with whom I leave my curse:

May never glorious sun reflex his beams
Upon the country where you make abode !
But darkness and the gloomy shade of death
Environ you; till mischief, and despair,
Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves!
[Exit, guarded.
York. Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashes,
Thou foul accursed minister of hell!

Enter CARDINAL BEAUFORT, attended.

Car. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence
With letters of commission from the king.
For know, my lords, the states of Christendom,
Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils,
Have earnestly implor'd a general peace
Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French;
And here at hand the Dauphin, and his train,
Approacheth to confer about some matter.

York. Is all our travail turn'd to this effect?
After the slaughter of so many peers,
So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers,
That in this quarrel have been overthrown,
And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,
Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?
Have we not lost most part of all the towns,
By treason, falsehood, and by treachery,
Our great progenitors had conquered? -
O, Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief
The utter loss of all the realm of France.
War. Be patient, York: if we conclude a peace,

―

The hollow passage of my poison'd voice,
By sight of these our baleful enemies.

Win. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus:
That-in regard king Henry gives consent,
Of mere compassion, and of lenity,
To ease your country of distressful war,
And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace,
You shall become true liegemen to his crown:
And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear
To
pay him tribute, and submit thyself,
Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him,
And still enjoy thy regal dignity.

Alen. Must he be then as shadow of himself?
Adorn his temples with a coronet ;
And yet, in substance and authority,
Retain but privilege of a private man?
This proffer is absurd and reasonless.

Char. 'Tis known, already that I am possess'd
With more than half the Gallian territories,
And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king:
Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd,
Detract so much from that prerogative,
As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole?
No, lord ambassador; I'll rather keep

That which I have, than, coveting for more,
Be cast from possibility of all.

York. Insulting Charles! hast thou by secret

means

Used intercession to obtain a league;
And, now the matter grows to compromise,
Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison?
Either accept the title thou usurp'st,
Of benefit proceeding from our king,
And not of any challenge of desert,
Or we will plague thee with incessant wars.
Reig. My lord, you do not well in obstinacy
To cavil in the course of this contract:
If once it be neglected, ten to one,
We shall not find like opportunity.

Alen. To say the truth, it is your policy,
To save your subjects from such massacre,
And ruthless slaughters, as are daily seen
By our proceeding in hostility:
And therefore take this compact of a truce,
Although you break it when your pleasure serves.
[Aside, to CHARles.
War. How say'st thou, Charles? shall our con-
dition stand?
Char. It shall:

Only reserv'd, you claim no interest
In any of our towns of garrison.

York. Then swear allegiance to his majesty ;
As thou art knight, never to disobey,
Nor be rebellious to the crown of England,
Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.
[CHARLES, and the rest, give tokens of fealty.
So, now dismiss your army when ye please;
Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still,
For here we entertain a solemn peace.

[Exeunt.

K k