« AnteriorContinuar »
breeds unkind division: There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. [Exit.
Before the Walls of Bourdeaux.
Enter Talbot with trumpets, and drum.
[Sounds. Enter General, aloft. English John Talbot, Captains, calls you forth, Servant in arms to Harry King of England; And thus he would. -Open your city-gates, Be humbled to us, call my Sovereign yours, And do him homage as obedient subjects, And I'll withdraw me and my bloody pow'r. But if you frown upon this proffer'd peace, You tempt the fury of my three attendants, Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire; Who in a moment even with the earth Shall lay your stately and air-braving tow'rs, If you forsake the offer of their love.
Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death, Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge! The period of thy tyranny approacheth. On us thou canst not enter, but by death: For, 1 proteft, we are well fortify'd; And strong enough to issue out and fight, If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed; Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee. On either hand thee, there are squadrons.pitch'd To wall ihee from the liberty of flight; And no way canst thou turn thee for redress : But death doth front thee with apparent spoil; And pale destruction meets thee in the face. Ten thousand French have ta'en the facrament, To rive their dangerous artillery Upon no christian foul but English Talbot. lo! there iliou 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 this sandy hour, These eyes,
that see thee now well coloured, Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale and dead.
[Drum afar off Hark! hark! ihe Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, Sings heavy music to thy tim'rous foul; And mine shall ring ihy dire departure out.
(Exit from the Walls. Tal. He fables not: I hear the enemy: Out, fome 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 tim'rous Deer, Mazd 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 desp'rate Stags,
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel,
S CE N E IV.
Another Part of France.
trumpet, and many soldiers.
Enter Sir William Lucy.
To Bourdeaux, warlike Duke; to Bourdeaux, York !
York. O God! that Somerset, who in proud heart
Lucy. O, send fome fuccour 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,
York. Alas! what joy shall noble Talbot have,
S CE N E V.
Another Part of France.
Enter Somerset, with his army. .
I'This expedition was by crot di lana Talbot
Too rashly plotted. All our gen’ral force
Capt. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me
Enter Sir William Lucy. Som. How now, Sir William, whither were you sent Lucy. Whither, my lord ? from bought and fold
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 while 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
his life unto a world of odds. Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy, Alanson, 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 with-hold his levied hoft, Collected for this expedition.
Som. York lies: he might have sent, and had the I owe him little duty, and less love, (horse: And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.
Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now entrapt the noble-minded Talbot ;