Tal.
Where is my other life?—mine own is gone;—
O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?—
Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity,
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,
Tend'ring my ruin, 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 over-mounting spirit; and there dy'd
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. Enter Soldiers, with the Body of young Talbot.

Ser.
O my dear lord, lo, where your son is born!

Tal.
Thou antick death, which laugh'st us here to scorn,
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupl'd in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
In thy despight, 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 dy'd 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 Sol. and Ser. leaving the two Bodies. Drums. Enter Pucelle, Charles, Bastard, Burgundy, and Soldiers.

Cha.
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.

Bas.
How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-wood,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!

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 wench:
So, rushing in the bowels of the French, ^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.

Bas.
Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder;
Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.

Cha.
O, no; forbear: for that which we have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead. Enter Sir William Lucy, attended; Herald of the French preceding.

Luc.
Herald, conduct me to the dauphin's tent;
To know who hath obtain'd ^note the glory of the day. [Herald shews the Dauphin to him.

Cha.
On what submissive message art thou sent?

Luc.
Submission, dauphin? 'tis a meer 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.

Cha.
For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison is.
But tell me whom thou seek'st.

Luc.
Where is ^note the great Alcides of the field,
Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury?
Created, for his rare success in arms,
Great earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence;
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton,
Lord Cromwel of Wingfield, lord Furnival ^note of Sheffield,
The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge;

Knight of the noble order of saint George,
Worthy saint Michael, and the golden fleece;
Great marishal ^{note note} to Henry ^note the sixth,
Of all his wars within the realm of France?

Puc.
Here is a silly stately stile, indeed!
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a stile as this.—
He, whom thou ^note magnify'st with all these titles,
Stinking, and fly-blown, lies here † at our feet.

Luc.
Is Talbot slain; the Frenchmen's only scourge,
Your kingdom's terror 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 amongst you here,
It would amaze 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.
For God's sake, let him have 'em; ^note to keep them here,
They would but stink, and putrify the air.

Cha.
Go, take their bodies hence.

Luc.
I'll bear them hence: [Att. take up the Bodies.
But from their ashes, dauphin, shall be rear'd
A phœnix, that shall make all France afeard.

Cha.
So we be rid, do ^note with them ^note what thou wilt. [Exeunt Luc. and Att. bearing out the Bodies.
And now to Paris, in this conquering vein;
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. [Exeunt.

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