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That ever living man of memory,

Henry the Fifth: whiles they each other cross,

Lives, honors, lands and all hurry to loss.

[Exit.]

SCENE IV. Other plains in Gascony.

[Enter Somerset, with his army; a Captain 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 honor

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.

CAPTAIN.

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 noble York and Somerset,

To beat assailing death from his weak legions;

And whiles the honorable captain there

Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs,

And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue,

You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honor,

Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.

Let not your private discord keep away

The levied succors that should lend him aid,

While he, renowned noble gentleman,

Yield up his life unto a world of odds.

Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,

Alencon, Reignier, compass 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 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 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 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.

Is my name Talbot? and am I your son?

And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,

Dishonor not her honorable 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.

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 honor 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 preserved with infamy.

TALBOT.

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

JOHN.

Aye, rather than I 'll shame