Never to England fhall he bear his life;
But dies, betray'd to fortune by your ftrife.

Som. Come, go; I will dispatch the horsemen ftrait: Within fix hours they will be at his aid.

Lucy. Too late comes refcue; he is ta'en, or flain; 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 fhame in you. [Exeunt,

Tal.

A Field of Battle near Bourdeaux.
Enter Talbot, and his fon.

Young John Talbot, I did fend for thee
To tutor thee in ftratagems of war;

That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd,
When faplefs age, and weak unable limbs,
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But, O malignant and ill-boading flars!
Now art thou come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger.

Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swifteft horse:
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape

By fudden flight. Come, dally not; be gone.
John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your fon?
And fhall I fly? O! if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,
To make a bastard, and a flave of me.
The world will fay, he is not Talbot's blood,
That bafely fled, when noble Talbot stood.

Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be flain.
John. He that flies fo, will ne'er return again.
Tal. If we both ftay, we both arc fure to die,
John. Then let me ftay, and, father, do you fly:
Your lofs is great, fo your regard should be;
My worth unknown, no lofs is known in me.

Upon

Upon my death the French can little boaft;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are loft.
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 fay, it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will ftay,
If the first hour I fhrink, and run away.
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
Rather than life preferv'd with infamy.

Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?
John. Ay, rather than I'll fhame my mother's womb.
Tal. Upon my bleffing I command thee go.
John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
Tal. Part of thy father may be fav'd in thee.
John. No
part of him, but will be fhame in me.
Tal. Thou never hadft renown, nor canft not lose it.
John. Yes, your renowned name; fhall flight abuse it?
Tal. Thy father's charge fhall clear thee from that
ftain.

John. You cannot witness for me, being flain.
If death be fo apparent, then both fly.

Tal. And leave my followers here to fight, and die? My age was never tainted with fuch fhame.

John. And fhall my youth be guilty of fuch blame? No more can I be fever'd from your fide, Than can yourself yourself 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 fon, Born to eclipfe thy life this afternoon : Come, fide by fide, together live and die;

And foul with foul from France to heaven fly. [Exeunt.

Alarm: excurfions, wherein Talbot's fon his hemm'd about and Talbot refcues him.

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.
Where is John Talbot? paufe, and take thy breath;
I gave thee life, and refcu'd thee from death.

John. O. twice my father! twice am I thy son :
The life, thou gav'fi me firft, was loft and done;
Till with thy warlike fword, defpight of fate,
To my determin'd time thou gav'll new date.

Tal. When from the Dauphin's creft thy fword ftruck fire,

It warm'd thy father's heart with proud defire
Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alanfon, Orleans, Burgundy,

And from the pride of Gallia refcu'd thee.
The ireful baftard Orleans, that drew blood
From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
Of thy firft Fight, I foon encounter'd;
And, interchanging blows, I quickly fhed
Some of his baftard blood; and in difgrace.
Befpoke him thus: Contaminated, base,
And mif begotten blood I fpill of thine,
Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine,
Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy-
Here, purpofing the Bastard to destroy,

Came in flrong refcue. Speak, thy father's care,
Art not thou weary, John? how doft thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art feal'd the fon of Chivalry?
Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead;
The help of one stands me in little ftead.
Oh, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one fmall boat.
If I to day die not with Frenchmens' rage,
To-morrow I fhall die with mickle age.
By me they nothing gain; and, if I ftay,
'Tis but the fhortning of my life one day.

In

In thee thy mother dies, our houfhold's name,
My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame:
All these, and more, we hazard by thy ftay;
All these are fav'd, if thou wilt fly away.

John. The fword of Orleans hath not made me fmart,
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart.
Out on that vantage bought with such a shame,
To fave a paltry life, and flay 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 fhame's fcorn, and fubject of mifchance.
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An if I fly, I am not Talbot's fon!

Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;

If fon to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy defp'rate Sire of Crete, Thou Icarus! thy life to me is sweet:

If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's fide;
And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

Alarm. Excurfions. Enter old Talbot led.

Tal. 7HERE is my other life? mine own is

WHERE

gone.

O! where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?
Triumphant Death, fmear'd with captivity!
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee.
When he perceiv'd me fhrink, and on my knee,
His bloody fword he brandifh'd over me;
And, like a hungry Lion, did commence
Rough deeds of rage, and ftern impatience:
But when my angry Guardant flood alone,
Tendring my ruin, and affail'd of none,
Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart
Suddenly made him from my fide to ftart,
Into the cluftring battle of the French:

And

And, in that fea of blood, my boy did drench
His over-mounting fpirit; and there dy'd
My Icarus! my blossom in his pride!

Enter John Talbot borne.

Serv. O my dear lord! lo! where your fon is borne. Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'ft us here to Anon, from thy infulting tyranny,

Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots winged through the lither fky,

In thy defpight, fhall 'fcape mortality.

[scorn,

O thou, whofe 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.

A C T V. SCENE I.

Continues near Bourdeaux.

[Dies.

Enter Charles, Alanfon, Burgundy, Baftard and Pucelle.

H

CHARLES.

AD York and Somerset brought rescue in,

We should have found a bloody day of this. Baft. How the young whelp of Talbot's raging brood Did flesh his puny fword in Frenchmen's blood!

66

Pucel. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I faid. Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid.”

But