The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 186

This is the latest glory of thy praise That I, thy enemy, due thee withal; For ere the gla.s.s that now begins to run Finish the process of his sandy hour, These eyes that see thee now well coloured Shall see thee withered, b.l.o.o.d.y, pale, and dead.

[Drum afar off]

Hark! hark! The Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul; And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. Exit TALBOT. He fables not; I hear the enemy.

Out, some light hors.e.m.e.n, and peruse their wings.

O, negligent and heedless discipline!

How are we park'd and bounded in a pale A little herd of England's timorous deer, Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs!

If we be English deer, be then in blood; Not rascal-like to fall down with a pinch, But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags, Turn on the b.l.o.o.d.y hounds with heads of steel And make the cowards stand aloof at bay.

Sell every man his life as dear as mine, And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.

G.o.d and Saint George, Talbot and England's right, Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight! Exeunt

SCENE 3.

Plains in Gascony

Enter YORK, with trumpet and many soldiers. A MESSENGER meets him

YORK. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin?

MESSENGER. They are return'd, my lord, and give it out That he is march'd to Bordeaux with his power To fight with Talbot; as he march'd along, By your espials were discovered Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led, Which join'd with him and made their march for Bordeaux.

YORK. A plague upon that villain Somerset That thus delays my promised supply Of hors.e.m.e.n that were levied for this siege!

Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid, And I am louted by a traitor villain And cannot help the n.o.ble chevalier.

G.o.d comfort him in this necessity!

If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.

Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY

LUCY. Thou princely leader of our English strength, Never so needful on the earth of France, Spur to the rescue of the n.o.ble Talbot, Who now is girdled with a waist of iron And hemm'd about with grim destruction.

To Bordeaux, warlike Duke! to Bordeaux, York!

Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour.

YORK. O G.o.d, that Somerset, who in proud heart Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place!

So should we save a valiant gentleman By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.

Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep That thus we die while remiss traitors sleep.

LUCY. O, send some succour to the distress'd lord!

YORK. He dies; we lose; I break my warlike word.

We mourn: France smiles. We lose: they daily get- All long of this vile traitor Somerset.

LUCY. Then G.o.d take mercy on brave Talbot's soul, And on his son, young John, who two hours since I met in travel toward his warlike father.

This seven years did not Talbot see his son; And now they meet where both their lives are done.

YORK. Alas, what joy shall n.o.ble Talbot have To bid his young son welcome to his grave?

Away! vexation almost stops my breath, That sund'red friends greet in the hour of death.

Lucy, farewell; no more my fortune can But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.

Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away Long all of Somerset and his delay. Exit with forces LUCY. Thus, while the vulture of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory, Henry the Fifth. Whiles they each other cross, Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. Exit

SCENE 4.

Other plains of Gascony

Enter SOMERSET, With his forces; an OFFICER of TALBOT'S with him

SOMERSET. It is too late; I cannot send them now.

This expedition was by York and Talbot Too rashly plotted; all our general force Might with a sally of the very town Be buckled with. The over daring Talbot Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure.

York set him on to fight and die in shame.

That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.

OFFICER. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid.

Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY

SOMERSET. How now, Sir William! Whither were you sent?

LUCY. Whither, my lord! From bought and sold Lord Talbot, Who, ring'd about with bold adversity, Cries out for n.o.ble York and Somerset To beat a.s.sailing death from his weak legions; And whiles the honourable captain there Drops b.l.o.o.d.y sweat from his war-wearied limbs And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue, You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour, Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.

Let not your private discord keep away The levied succours that should lend him aid, While he, renowned n.o.ble gentleman, Yield up his life unto a world of odds.

Orleans the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Charles, Burgundy, Alencon, Reignier, compa.s.s him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default.

SOMERSET. York set him on; York should have sent him aid.

LUCY. And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims, Swearing that you withhold his levied host, 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 n.o.ble 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 hors.e.m.e.n 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 5.

The English camp near Bordeaux

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 reviv'd 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. 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d and a slave of me!

The world will say he is not Talbot's blood That basely fled when n.o.ble Talbot stood.

TALBOT. Fly to revenge my death, if I be slain.

JOHN. He that flies so will ne'er return again.

TALBOT. If we both stay, we both are sure to die.

JOHN. 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, every 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.

TALBOT. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?

JOHN. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.

TALBOT. Upon my blessing I command thee go.