&blquo;Tal.
&blquo;Saint George, and victory! fight, soldiers, fight.
&blquo;The regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
&blquo;And left us to the rage of France's sword.
&blquo;Where is John Talbot?—pause, and take thy breath;
&blquo;I gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death.

&blquo;Son.
&blquo;O twice my father! twice am I thy son:
&blquo;The life, thou gav'st me first, was lost and done;
&blquo;'Till with thy warlike sword, despight of fate,
&blquo;To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date.

&blquo;Tal.
&blquo;hen from the dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire,
&blquo;It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
&blquo;Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
&blquo;Quicken'd with youthful spleen, and warlike rage,
&blquo;Beat down Alenson, Orleans, Burgundy,
&blquo;And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee:
&blquo;The ireful bastard Orleans—that drew blood
&blquo;From thee, my boy; and had the maidenhood
&blquo;Of thy first fight—I soon encountered;
&blquo;And, enterchanging blows, I quickly shed
&blquo;Some of his bastard blood; and, in disgrace,
&blquo;Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base,
&blquo;And mis-begotten blood I spill of thine,
&blquo;Mean and right poor; for that pure blood of mine,
&blquo;Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy:
&blquo;Here, purposing the bastard to destroy,
&blquo;Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care;
&blquo;Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?
&blquo;Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
&blquo;Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?

&blquo;Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead;
&blquo;The help of one stands me in little stead.
&blquo;O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
&blquo;To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
&blquo;If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
&blquo;To-morrow I shall die with mickle age:
&blquo;By me they nothing gain, an if I stay,
&blquo;'Tis but the shortning of my life one day;
&blquo;In thee thy mother dies, our houshold's name,
&blquo;My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame:
&blquo;All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay;
&blquo;All these are sav'd, if thou wilt fly away.

&blquo;Son.
&blquo;The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart,
&blquo;These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart:
&blquo;Out on that vantage, bought with such a shame,
&blquo;To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame!
&blquo;Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
&blquo;The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die!
&blquo;And like me to the peasant boys of France;
&blquo;To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance!
&blquo;Surely, by all the glory you have won,
&blquo;An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son:
&blquo;Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;
&blquo;If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

&blquo;Tal.
&blquo;Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete,
&blquo;Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet:
&blquo;If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side;
&blquo;And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride* ^note. [Exeunt. Trumpets sounding a charge.

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