SCENE VII.
Another Part of the Same.
Alarum: Excursions. Enter Talbot wounded, supported by a Servant.
Tal.
Where is my other life?—mine own is gone;—
O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?—
Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity2 note
!
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee:—
When he perceiv'd 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,
-- 129 --
Tend'ring my ruin3 note
, and assail'd of none,
Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart,
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust'ring battle of the French:
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His overmounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
Enter Soldiers, bearing the Body of John Talbot4 note.
Serv.
O my dear lord! lo, where your son is borne!
Tal.
Thou antick death5 note
, which laugh'st us here to scorn,
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
-- 130 --
Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky6 note
,
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.
Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving
the two Bodies. Enter Charles, Alençon, Burgundy,
Bastard, La Pucelle, and Forces.
Char.
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.
-- 131 --
Bast.
How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-wood7 note
,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood8 note!
Puc.
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 wench9 note
:
So, rushing in the bowels of the French1 note
,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
Bur.
Doubtless, he would have made a noble knight:
See, where he lies inhersed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
Bast.
Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder;
Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.
Char.
O, no; forbear: for that which we have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
-- 132 --
Enter Sir William Lucy, attended; a French Herald preceding.
Lucy.
Herald,
Conduct me to the Dauphin's tent; to know
Who hath obtain'd2 note
the glory of the day.
Char.
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.
Char.
For prisoners, ask'st thou? hell our prison is.
But tell me whom thou seek'st.
Lucy.
Where is the great Alcides3 note of the field,
Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury?
Created, for his rare success in arms,
Great earl of Washford4 note, Waterford, and Valence;
-- 133 --
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 mareshal to Henry the sixth,
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
Puc.
Here is a silly stately style indeed!
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath5 note,
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 terrour and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eye-balls 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 among you here,
It would amaze6 note
the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies; that I may bear them hence,
And give them burial as beseems their worth.
Puc.
I think, this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
-- 134 --
For God's sake, let him have 'em7 note; to keep them here,
They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
Char.
Go, take their bodies hence,
Lucy.
I'll bear them hence:
But from their ashes shall be rear'd
A phœnix8 note
that shall make all France afeard.
Char.
So we be rid of them, do with 'em what thou wilt9 note.
And now to Paris, in this conquering vein;
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.
[Exeunt.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
