Might with a fally of the very town Enter Sir William Lucy. Som. How now, Sir William, whither were you fent? Who, ring'd about with bold adverfity, Drops bloody fweat from his war-wearied limbs, Yields up his life unto a world of odds. Orleans the Baftard, Charles, and Burgundy, And Talbot perifheth by your default. Som. York fet him on, York fhould have fent him aid. Lucy. And York as faft upon your Grace exclaims; Swearing, that you with-hold his levied hoft, Collected for this expedition. Som. York lies: he might have fent, and had the horse: I owe him little duty, and lefs love, And take foul fcorn to fawn on him by fending. Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now entrapt the noble-minded Talbot: Never to England shall he bear his life; 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 йy 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. Tal. A Field of Battle near Bourdeaux. Enter Talbot, and bis fon. Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swifteft horse, Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. To tutor thee in ftratagems of war ;] Stratagem, for art imply. Tal. If we both stay, we both are fure to die. John. Then let me ftay, and, father, do you fly: Your lofs is great, fo your regard fhould be; My worth unknown, no lofs is known in me. Upon my death the French can little boast; 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 stay, If the first hour I fhrink, and run away. Here, on my knee, I beg mortality, Rather than life preferv'd with infamy. 2 Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lye 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 lofe it. John. Yes, your renowned name; fhall flight abuse it? Tal. Thy father's charge fhall clear thee from that ftain. John. You cannot witnefs 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 such blame? No more can I be fever'd from your fide, Than can your felf your felf 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 eclipse thy life this afternoon : Come, fide by fide, together live and die; And foul with foul from France to heaven fly. [Exeunt. 2 I beg mortality,] Mortality, for death. Alarm: Alarm: excurfions, wherein Talbot's fon is bemm'd about, and Talbot rescues 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 fword. Where is John Talbot? paufe, and take thy breath gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death. I ; John. O, twice my father! twice am I thy fon: It warm'd thy father's heart with proud defire Here, purpofing the Bastard to destroy, Came in ftrong refcue. Speak, thy father's care, If I to day die not with Frenchmens' rage, John. The fword of Orleans hath not made me fmart, The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die! Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot; 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; Alarm. Excurfions. 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 fmile at thee. When he perceiv'd me fhrink, and on my knee, His bloody fword he brandifh'd over me; {(a) out on that vantage. Mr. Theobald. advantage] Vulg. on that And, |