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.
[Drums 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;
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 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.

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 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, 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 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.
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'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,
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 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, betrayed 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 [Exeunt.

in 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,
If, the first hour, I shrink, and run away.
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
Rather 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. 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 warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
Quicken'd with youthful spleen, and warlikerage,
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 misbegotten 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 not thou 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, an 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. 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 antic 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 Servants, leaving the two bodies. Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, 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 answer'd 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. Char. O, no; forbear: for that, which we have fled

During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
Enter Sir WILLIAM LUCY, attended; a French
Herald preceding.

Lucy. Herald,

Conduct me to the Dauphin's tent; to know
Who have obtain'd the glory of the day.
Char. On what submissive message art thou
sent?

Lucy. Submission, Dauphin? 'tis a mere
French word;

We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.

Char. For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our
prison is.

But tell me whom thou seek'st.

Lucy. Where is the great Alcides of the fir. Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury? Created, for his rare success in arms, 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 Frenchman's only

scourge,

Your kingdom's terror 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.

SCENE I.-London. A room in the palace. Enter King HENRY, GLOSTER, and EXETER. K. Hen. Have you perus'd the letters from

the pope, The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac ? Glo. I have, my lord, and their intent is this,They humbly sue unto your excellence, To have a godly peace concluded of, Between the realms of England and of France. K. Hen. How doth your grace affect their motion?

Glo. Well, my good lord; and as the only means To stop effusion of our Christian blood, And 'stablish quietness on every side.

K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought,

It was both impious and unnatural,
That such immanity and bloody strife
Should reign among professors of one faith.

Glo. Beside, my lord,-the sooner to effect, And surer bind, this knot of amity,The earl of Armagnac-near knit to Charles, A man of great authority in France,Proffers his only daughter to your grace In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry. K. Hen. Marriage, uncle! alas! my years are

young;

And fitter is my study and my books,
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
Yet, call the ambassadors; and, as you please,
So let them have their answers every one:
I shall be well content with any choice,
Tends to God's glory, and my country's weal.

Enter a Legate, and two Ambassadors, with
WINCHESTER, in a cardinal's habit.

Exe. What! is my lord of Winchester install'd,

And call'd unto a cardinal's degree!

Have been consider'd and debated on.
Your purpose is both good and reasonable:
And, therefore, are we certainly resolv'd
To draw conditions of a friendly peace;
Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean
Shall be transported presently to France.

Glo. And for the proffer of my lord your master,

I have inform'd his highness so at large,
As-liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
Her beauty, and the value of her dower,-
He doth intend she shall be England's queen.
K. Hen. In argument and proof of which
contract,

Bear her this jewel, [To the Amb.] pledge of my affection.

And so, my lord protector, see them guarded, And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd, Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

[Exeunt King Henry and Train; Gloster, Exeter, and Ambassadors.

Win. Stay, my lord legate; you shall first receive

The sum of money, which I promised
Should be delivered to his holiness,
For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
Leg. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.
Win. Now, Winchester will not submit, I trow,
Or be inferior to the proudest peer.
Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive,
That, neither in birth, or for authority,
The bishop will be overborne by thee:
I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee,
Or sack this country with a mutiny. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-France. Plains in Anjou.
Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENCON, LA
PUCELLE, and Forces, marching.
Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our
drooping spirits:

Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt,
And turn again unto the warlike French.
Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of
France,

And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;
Else, ruin combat with their palaces!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Success unto our valiant general, And happiness to his accomplices!

Char. What tidings send our scouts ? I pr'ythee, speak.

Mess. The English army, that divided was

Into two parts, is now conjoin'd in one; And means to give you battle presently.

Char. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is ;

But we will presently provide for them.

Bur. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there; Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. Puc. Of all base passions, fear is most accurs'd:

Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine; Let Henry fret, and all the world repine. Char. Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate! [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The same. Before Angiers. Alarums: Excursions. Enter LA PUCelle. Puc. The regent conquers, and the French

men fly.

Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts; And ye choice spirits, that admonish me, And give me signs of future accidents!

[Thunder.

You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Under the lordly monarch of the north, Appear, and aid me in this enterprize!

Enter Fiends.

This speedy quick appearance argues proof
Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
Now, ye
familiar spirits, that are cull'd
Out of the powerful regions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the
field. They walk about, and speak not.
O, hold me not with silence over-long!
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 recompence, 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.
[Exit.

Alarums. Enter French and English, fighting.
LA PUCELLE and YORK fight hand to hand.
LA PUCELLE is taken. The French fly.
York. Damsel of France, I think, I have you
fast:

Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms,