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My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lye in one tomb?
John. You cannot witness for me, being Nain. 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 your self your self 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 heav'n shall Ay. [Exe. Alarum: excursions, wherein Talbot's Son is berim'd
about, and Talbot rescues bim. ,: Tal. St. George, and victory! fight, foldiers, fight : The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
And left us to the rage of France's sword.
John. O twice my father, twice am I thy fon;
Tal. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword ftruck It warm’d 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 Alanson, Orleans, Burgundy, And from the pride of Gallia refçu'd thee. The ireful Bastard Orleans that drew blood From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood Of thy first fight, I foon encourtered; And interchanging blows, I quickly shed Some of his bastard blood; then in disgrace Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base, And mis-begotten blood I spill of thine, Mean and right poor, for that puré 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 battel, boy, and Ay, 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. Oh, too much folly is it, well. I wot, To hazard all our lives in one small boat. If I to-day die not with Frencbmens rage, To-morrow I shall die with mickle age. By me they nothing gain; and if I stay, 'Tis but the shortning of my life one day. . In thee thy mother dies, qur houshold's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame: All these and more we hazard by thy stay ;
All these are fav'd if thou wilt fly away.
Jobn. The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart,
Tal. Then follow thou thy desp'rate fire of Crete,
Alarm. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led.
Enter y On that advantage or out on that vantage 8 like
Enter John Talbot, born.
Tal. Thou antick death, which laugh'st us here to Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
[fcorn, Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, Two Talbots winged through the lither sky, In thy despight shall ’scape mortality. O thou, whose wounds become hard-favoured death, Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath, a 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.
A C TV. S CE N E I.
Continues near Bourdeaux.
Enter Dauphin, Alanson, Burgundy, Bastard, and Pucelle.
AD York and Somerset brought rescue in,
. of .
Baft. How the young whelp of Talbot's raging Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmens blood! (brood
Pucel. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said:
He answer'd thus: Young Talbot was not born
Burg. Doubtlefs he would have made a noble Knight:
Bajt. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder, Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.
Dau. Oh, no: forbear: for that which we have fled During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
Enter Lucy. Lucy. 9 'Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent, Who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.
Dau. On what submislive message art thou sent?
Lucy. Submislion, Dauphin? 'tis a meer French word: We English warriors wot not what it means. I come to know whát prisoners thou hast ta'en, And to survey the bodies of the dead.
Dau. For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison is. But tell me whom thou seek'st.
Lucy. Where is the great Alcides of the field, 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 Verdon of Alton, Lord Cromwel of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffeild, The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge, Knight of the noble order of St. George, Worthy St. Michael, and the Golden Fleece, Great Marshal to our King Henry the Sixth Of all his wars within the realm of France.
Pucel. Here is a filly, stately stile indeed; The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath, Writes not so tedious a stile as this.
He 9 Conduct me to the Dauphin's tent, to know