Collected for this expedition.
Somerset
York lies; he might have sent and had the horse;
I owe him little duty, and less love;
And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.
Lucy
The fraud of England, not the force of France,
Hath now entrapp’d the noble-minded Talbot:
Never to England shall he bear his life;
But dies, betray’d to fortune by your strife.
Somerset
Come, go; I will dispatch the horsemen straight:
Within six hours they will be at his aid.
Lucy
Too late comes rescue: he is ta’en or slain;
For fly he could not, if he would have fled;
And fly would Talbot never, though he might.
Somerset
If he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu!
Lucy
His fame lives in the world, his shame in you.
Exeunt
SCENE V. THE ENGLISH CAMP NEAR BOURDEAUX.
Enter Talbot and John his son
Talbot
O young John Talbot! I did send for thee
To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
That Talbot’s name might be in thee revived
When sapless age and weak unable limbs
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But, O malignant and ill-boding stars!
Now thou art 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 sudden flight: come, dally not, be gone.
John Talbot
Is my name Talbot? and am I your son?
And shall I fly? O 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.
Talbot
Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.
John Talbot
He that flies so will ne’er return again.
Talbot
If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
John Talbot
Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly:
Your loss is great, so your regard should be;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done:
You fled for vantage, everyone 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 preserved with infamy.
Talbot
Shall all thy mother’s hopes lie in one tomb?
John Talbot
Ay, rather than I’ll shame my mother’s womb.
Talbot
Upon my blessing, I command thee go.
John Talbot
To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
Talbot
Part of thy father may be saved in thee.
John Talbot
No part of him but will be shame in me.
Talbot
Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.
John Talbot
Yes, your renowned name: shall flight abuse it?
Talbot
Thy father’s charge shall clear thee from that stain.
John Talbot
You cannot witness for me, being slain.
If death be so apparent, then both fly.
Talbot
And leave my followers here to fight and die?
My age was never tainted with such shame.
John Talbot
And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?
No more can I be sever’d from your side,
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.
Talbot
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.
Exeunt
SCENE VI. A FIELD OF BATTLE.
Alarum: excursions, wherein John Talbot is hemmed 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 rescued thee from death.
John Talbot
O, twice my father, twice am I thy son!
The life thou gavest me first was lost and done,
Till with thy warlike sword, despite of late,
To my determined time thou gavest 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-faced 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 shortening 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 saved if thou wilt fly away.
John Talbot
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 fail 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 desperate sire of Crete,
Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet:
If thou wilt f
ight, fight by thy father’s side;
And, commendable proved, let’s die in pride.
Exeunt
SCENE VII. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.
Alarum: excursions. Enter 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 perceived 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,
Tendering my ruin and assail’d of none,
Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clustering battle of the French;
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His over-mounting spirit, and there died,
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
Servant
O, my dear lord, lo, where your son is borne!
Enter Soldiers, with the body of John Talbot
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-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.
Dies
Enter Charles, Alencon, Burgundy, Bastard Of Orleans, Joan La Pucelle, and forces
Charles
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.
Bastard Of Orleans
How the young whelp of Talbot’s, raging-wood,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen’s blood!
Joan La Pucelle
Once I encounter’d 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 Of Orleans
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; Herald of the French preceding
Lucy
Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin’s tent,
To know who hath obtained 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?
Joan La Pucelle
Here is a silly stately style indeed!
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles
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 eyeballs into bullets turn’d,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but call 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.
Joan La 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 ’em; 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 ’em what thou wilt.
And now to Paris, in this conquering vein:
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot’s slain.
Exeunt
ACT V
SCENE I. LONDON. THE PALACE.
Sennet. Enter King Henry VI, Gloucester, and Exeter
King Henry VI
Have you perused the letters from the pope,
The emperor and the Earl of Armagnac?
Gloucester
I have, my lord: and their intent is this:
They humbly sue unto your excellence
To have a godly peace concluded of
Between the realms of England and of France.
King Henry VI
How doth your grace affect their motion?
Gloucester
Well, my good lord; and as the only means
To stop effusion of our Christian blood
And ’stablish quietness on every side.
King Henry VI
Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought
It was both impious and unnatural
That such immanity and bloody strife
Should reign among professors of one faith.
Gloucester
Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect
And surer bind this knot of amity,
The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles,
A man of great authority in France,
Proffers his only daughter to your grace
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
King Henry VI
Marriage, uncle! alas, my years are young!
And fitter is my study and my books
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
Yet call the ambassador; and, as you please,
So
let them have their answers every one:
I shall be well content with any choice
Tends to God’s glory and my country’s weal.
Enter Cardinal Of Winchester in Cardinal’s habit, a Legate and two Ambassadors
Exeter
What! is my Lord of Winchester install’d,
And call’d unto a cardinal’s degree?
Then I perceive that will be verified
Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy,
‘If once he come to be a cardinal,
He’ll make his cap co-equal with the crown.’
King Henry VI
My lords ambassadors, your several suits
Have been consider’d and debated on.
And therefore are we certainly resolved
To draw conditions of a friendly peace;
Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean
Shall be transported presently to France.
Gloucester
And for the proffer of my lord your master,
I have inform’d his highness so at large
As liking of the lady’s virtuous gifts,
Her beauty and the value of her dower,
He doth intend she shall be England’s queen.
King Henry VI
In argument and proof of which contract,
Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.
And so, my lord protector, see them guarded
And safely brought to Dover; where inshipp’d
Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
Exeunt all but Cardinal Of Winchester and Legate
Cardinal
Bishop of Winchester
Stay, my lord legate: you shall first receive
The sum of money which I promised
Should be deliver’d to his holiness
For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
Legate
I will attend upon your lordship’s leisure.
Cardinal
Bishop of Winchester
[Aside] Now Winchester will not submit, I trow,
Or be inferior to the proudest peer.
Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive
That, neither in birth or for authority,
The bishop will be overborne by thee:
I’ll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee,
Or sack this country with a mutiny.
Exeunt
SCENE II. FRANCE. PLAINS IN ANJOU.
Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alencon, Bastard Of Orleans, Reignier, Joan La Pucelle, and forces
Charles
These news, my lord, may cheer our drooping spirits:
’Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt
And turn again unto the warlike French.
Alencon
Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France,
And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
Joan La Pucelle
Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;
Complete Plays, The Page 203