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

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

Lucy. Too late comes rescue; 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 shame in you.

[Exeunt, S CE N E VI.

A Field of Battle near Bourdeaux.

Enter Talbot, and his son.
Tal.

O Young John Talbot, I did send for thee
That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd,
When fapless age, and weak unable limbs,
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But, О malignant and ill-boading stars!
Now art thou 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 fudden flight. Come, daliy not; be gone.
John. Is my name Talbot? and am I

your

son?
And shall I fly? 0! 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 flain.
Jo!in. Ils that flies so, will ne'er return again.
Tel. If we both stay, we both are sure to die,

Jo!ın. Then let me stay, and, father, do you fly:
Your loss is great, fo your regard should be ;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.

Upon

Upon my death the French can little boast;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are loft.
Flight cannot stain 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. Shallall 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 hadft renown, nor canft not lose it.
John. Yes, your renowned name; shall flight abuse it?
Tal. Thy father's charge fhall clear thee from that

stain.
John. You cannot witness for me, being flain.
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.

Join. And hall my youth be guilty of such blain? 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 son, Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon : Come, side by side, together live and die; And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. [Exeun!. Alarm: excursions, wherein Talbot's fon his hemm'd about

and Talbot rescues him. Tal. St. George, and victory! fight, soldiers, fight:

The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
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 fronı death.

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, despight of fate,
To my determin'd time thou gav'll new date.
Tal. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword

ftruck 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 warlike rage, Beat down Alanson, 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, '1 foon encounter'd ; And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed Some of his bastard blood; and in disgrace Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base, And mis-begotten blood I spill of thine, Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine, Which thou didit force from Talbot, my brave boyHere, 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 ihon art feal'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. lfl to day die not with Frenchmens' rage, To-morrow I shall die with mickle age. By me they nothing gain; and, if I stay, 'Tis but :he shorining of my life one day.

In

In thee thy mother dies, our 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 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.
Out on that vantage 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 fcorn, and subject of mischance.
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 son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy desp'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.

S CE N E VII.

WHERE

Alarm. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led. Tal. THERE 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 food 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 clustring battle of the French :

And

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

Enter John Talbot borne.
Serv. O my dear lord ! lo! where your son is borne.

. Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'it us here to Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,

[scorn, Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, Two Talbots winged through the lither sky, In thy despight, 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 fpirit 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. T V.

SCENE: I.

Continues near Bourdeaux.

Enter Charles, Alanfon, Burgundy, Bastard and

Pucelle.

CHARLES.

H We should have found a bloody day of this.

Baf. How the young whelp of Talbot's raging brood Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood !

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

But