SCENE 6.A field of battle
Alarum:excursions wherein JOHN TALBOT is hemm'd about,and TALBOT rescues him
TALBOT.Saint George and victory!Fight,soldiers,fight.The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word And left us to the rage of France his 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 son!The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done Till with thy warlike sword,despite of fate,To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date.TALBOT.When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck 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 Alencon,Orleans,Burgundy,And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee.The ireful bastard Orleans,that drew blood From thee,my boy,and had the maidenhood Of thy first fight,I soon encountered And,interchanging blows,I quickly shed Some of his bastard blood;and in disgrace Bespoke him thus:'Contaminated,base,And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,Mean and right poor,for that pure 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 thou not weary,John?How dost thou fare?Wilt thou yet leave the battle,boy,and fly,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.O,too much folly is it,well I wot,To hazard all our lives in one small boat!If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,To-morrow I shall die with mickle age.By me they nothing gain an if I stay:'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day.In thee thy mother dies,our household'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.On that advantage,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 scorn and subject of mischance!Surely,by all the glory you have won,An if I fly,I am not Talbot's son;Then talk no more of flight,it is no boot;If son to Talbot,die at Talbot's foot.TALBOT.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 side;And,commendable prov'd,let's die in pride.Exeunt
SCENE 7.Another part of the field
Alarum;excursions.Enter old TALBOT led by a SERVANT TALBOT.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 stood alone,Tend'ring my ruin and assail'd of none,Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clust'ring battle of the French;And in that sea of blood my boy did drench His overmounting spirit;and there died,My Icarus,my blossom,in his pride.
Enter soldiers,bearing the body of JOHN TALBOT
SERVANT.O my dear lord,lo where your son is borne!TALBOT.Thou antic Death,which laugh'st us here to scorn,Anon,from thy insulting tyranny,Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,Two Talbots,winged through the lither sky,In thy despite shall scape mortality.O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured 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.[Dies]Enter CHARLES,ALENCON,BURGUNDY,BASTARD,LA PUCELLE,and forces
CHARLES.Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,We should have found a bloody day of this.BASTARD.How the young whelp of Talbot's,raging wood,Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!PUCELLE.Once I encount'red him,and thus I said:'Thou maiden youth,be vanquish'd by a maid.'But with a proud majestical high scorn 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.BURGUNDY.Doubtless he would have made a noble knight.See where he lies inhearsed in the arms Of the most bloody nurser of his harms!BASTARD.Hew them to pieces,hack their bones asunder,Whose life was England's glory,Gallia's wonder.CHARLES.O,no;forbear!For that which we have fled During the life,let us not wrong it dead.
Enter SIR WILLIAM Lucy,attended;a FRENCH HERALD preceding
LUCY.Herald,conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.CHARLES.On what submissive message art thou sent?LUCY.Submission,Dauphin!'Tis a mere French word:We English warriors wot not what it means.I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,And to survey the bodies of the dead.CHARLES.For prisoners ask'st thou?Hell our prison is.But tell me whom thou seek'st.LUCY.But where's 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 Verdun of Alton,Lord Cromwell of Wingfield,Lord Furnival of Sheffield,The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,Knight of the noble order of Saint George,Worthy Saint Michael,and the Golden Fleece,Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth Of all his wars within the realm of France?PUCELLE.Here's a silly-stately style indeed!The Turk,that two and fifty kingdoms hath,Writes not so tedious a style as this.Him that thou magnifi'st with all these tides,Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet.LUCY.Is Talbot slain-the Frenchmen's only scourge,Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?O,were mine eye-bans into bullets turn'd,That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!O that I could but can these dead to life!It were enough to fright the realm of France.Were but his picture left amongst you here,It would amaze the proudest of you all.Give me their bodies,that I may bear them hence And give them burial as beseems their worth.PUCELLE.I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.For God's sake,let him have them;to keep them here,They would but stink,and putrefy the air.CHARLES.Go,take their bodies hence.LUCY.I'll bear them hence;but from their ashes shall be rear'd A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.CHARLES.So we be rid of them,do with them what thou wilt.And now to Paris in this conquering vein!All will be ours,now bloody Talbot's slain.Exeunt