Part 21

Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led.

Talb. Where is my other Life? mine owne is gone. O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant Iohn? Triumphant Death, smear'd with Captiuitie, Young Talbots Valour makes me smile at thee. When he perceiu'd me shrinke, and on my Knee, His bloodie Sword he brandisht ouer mee, And like a hungry Lyon did commence Rough deeds of Rage, and sterne Impatience: But when my angry Guardant stood alone, Tendring my ruine, and assayl'd of none, Dizzie-ey'd Furie, and great rage of Heart, Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clustring Battaile of the French: And in that Sea of Blood, my Boy did drench His ouer-mounting Spirit; and there di'de My Icarus, my Blossome, in his pride. Enter with Iohn Talbot, borne.

Seru. O my deare Lord, loe where your Sonne is borne

Tal. Thou antique Death, which laugh'st vs here to scorn, Anon from thy insulting Tyrannie, Coupled in bonds of perpetuitie, Two Talbots winged through the lither Skie, In thy despight shall scape Mortalitie. O thou whose wounds become hard fauoured death, Speake to thy father, ere thou yeeld thy breath, Braue death by speaking, whither he will or no: Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy Foe. Poore Boy, he smiles, me thinkes, as who should say, Had Death bene French, then Death had dyed to day. Come, come, and lay him in his Fathers armes, My spirit can no longer beare these harmes. Souldiers adieu: I haue what I would haue, Now my old armes are yong Iohn Talbots graue.

Dyes

Enter Charles, Alanson, Burgundie, Bastard, and Pucell.

Char. Had Yorke and Somerset brought rescue in, We should haue found a bloody day of this

Bast. How the yong whelpe of Talbots raging wood, Did flesh his punie-sword in Frenchmens blood

Puc. Once I encountred him, and thus I said: Thou Maiden youth, be vanquisht by a Maide. But with a proud Maiesticall high scorne He answer'd thus: Yong Talbot was not borne To be the pillage of a Giglot Wench: So rushing in the bowels of the French, He left me proudly, as vnworthy fight

Bur. Doubtlesse he would haue made a noble Knight: See where he lyes inherced in the armes Of the most bloody Nursser of his harmes

Bast. Hew them to peeces, hack their bones assunder, Whose life was Englands glory, Gallia's wonder

Char. Oh no forbeare: For that which we haue fled During the life, let vs not wrong it dead. Enter Lucie.

Lu. Herald, conduct me to the Dolphins Tent, To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day

Char. On what submissiue message art thou sent? Lucy. Submission Dolphin? Tis a meere French word: We English Warriours wot not what it meanes. I come to know what Prisoners thou hast tane, And to suruey the bodies of the dead

Char. For prisoners askst thou? Hell our prison is. But tell me whom thou seek'st? Luc. But where's the great Alcides of the field, Valiant Lord Talbot Earle of Shrewsbury? Created for his rare successe in Armes, Great Earle of Washford, Waterford, and Valence, Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Vrchinfield, Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton, Lord Cromwell of Wingefield, Lord Furniuall of Sheffeild, The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge, Knight of the Noble Order of S. George, Worthy S. Michael, and the Golden Fleece, Great Marshall to Henry the sixt, Of all his Warres within the Realme of France

Puc. Heere's a silly stately stile indeede: The Turke that two and fiftie Kingdomes hath, Writes not so tedious a Stile as this. Him that thou magnifi'st with all these Titles, Stinking and fly-blowne lyes heere at our feete

Lucy. Is Talbot slaine, the Frenchmens only Scourge, Your Kingdomes terror, and blacke Nemesis? Oh were mine eye-balles into Bullets turn'd, That I in rage might shoot them at your faces. Oh, that I could but call these dead to life, It were enough to fright the Realme of France. Were but his Picture left amongst you here, It would amaze the prowdest of you all. Giue me their Bodyes, that I may beare them hence, And giue them Buriall, as beseemes their worth

Pucel. I thinke this vpstart is old Talbots Ghost, He speakes with such a proud commanding spirit: For Gods sake let him haue him, to keepe them here, They would but stinke, and putrifie the ayre

Char. Go take their bodies hence

Lucy. Ile beare them hence: but from their ashes shal be reard A Phoenix that shall make all France affear'd

Char. So we be rid of them, do with him what y wilt. And now to Paris in this conquering vaine, All will be ours, now bloody Talbots slaine. Enter.

Scena secunda.

SENNET.

Enter King, Glocester, and Exeter.

King. Haue you perus'd the Letters from the Pope, The Emperor, and the Earle of Arminack? Glo. I haue my Lord, and their intent is this, They humbly sue vnto your Excellence, To haue a godly peace concluded of, Betweene the Realmes of England, and of France

King. How doth your Grace affect their motion? Glo. Well (my good Lord) and as the only meanes To stop effusion of our Christian blood, And stablish quietnesse on euery side

King. I marry Vnckle, for I alwayes thought It was both impious and vnnaturall, That such immanity and bloody strife Should reigne among Professors of one Faith

Glo. Beside my Lord, the sooner to effect, And surer binde this knot of amitie, The Earle of Arminacke neere knit to Charles, A man of great Authoritie in France, Proffers his onely daughter to your Grace, In marriage, with a large and sumptuous Dowrie