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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 ftain the honour you have won,
But mine it will, that no exploit have done.
You fled for vantage, ev'ry 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 lye in one tomb?
John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.
Tal. Upon my blessing I command thee

John. To fight I will, but not to Ay 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 hadft renown, and canft not lose it.
John. Yes, your renowned name ; shall fight abuse it?
Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from the stain.

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,


do 1);

And left us to the rage of France's sword.
Where is John Talbot ? pause, and take thy breath ;
I gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death.

John. O twice my father, twice am I thy fon;
The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done,
'Till with thy warlike sword, despight of fate,
To my determin'd time thou gav lt new dare, [fire,

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,
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart.
7 'Oh! what advantage' bought with such a shame,
To save a paltry life, and Nay bright fame!
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horse that bears me fall and die,
And ! 'leave' 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 dy, I am not Talbot's son:
Then talk no more of fight, it is no boot;
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy desp'rate fire 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.

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Alarm. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led.
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 ftood alone,
Tendring my ruin, and affail'd of none,
Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust'ring battel of the French:
And in that fea of blood my boy did drench
His over-mounting spirit; and there dy'd
My Icarus, my bloffom, in his pride !

Enter y On that advantage or out on that vantage 8 like

Enter John Talbot, born.
Serv. O my dear Lord! lo where your son is 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.


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:
Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid.
But with a proud, majestical, high scorn

(a) -yield thy breath.
Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no :
Imagine him a Frenchmar, and thy foe.
Poor boy, he smiles, methinks, as who should say,
Had death been French, then death had died to-day.
Come, come, c.

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.

Burg. Doubtlefs he would have made a noble Knight:
See where he lyes inhersed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.

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

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