I fear, we should have seen decipher'd there More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,

Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd.
But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees
This jarring discord of nobility,

This should'ring of each other in the court,
This factious bandying of their favourites,
But that it doth presage some ill event.

'Tis much, when scepters are in children's

hands;

But more, when envy breeds unkind division; There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. [Exit.

SCENE II.

France. Before Bourdeaux.

Enter TALBOT, with his Forces.

Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter, Summon their general unto the wall.

Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, on the walls, the General of the French Forces, and Others.

English John Talbot, Captains, calls you forth, Servant in arms to Harry King of England;

And thus he would, Open your city gates a
Be humble to us; call my Sovereign yours,
And do him homage as obedient subjects,
And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power:
But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace,
You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
VOL. X.
13

Lean famine, quartering steel, and-climbing fire; Who, in a moment, even with the earth

Shall lay your stately and air-braying towers, If your forsake the offer of their love.

Gen. Thou onimous and fearful owl of death,
Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge!
The period of thy tyranny approacheth.
On us thou canst not enter, but by death:
For, I protest, we are well fortify'd,

And strong enough to issue out and fight:
If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed,
Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee:
On eithes hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd,
To wall thee from the liberty of flight;

And no way canst thou turn thee for redress,
But death doth front thee witch apparent spoil,
And pale destruction meets thee in the face.
Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament,
To rive their dangerous artillery

1

Upon no christian soul but English Talbot.
Lo! there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man,
Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit:
This is the latest glory of thy praise,
That I, thy enemy, due thee withal;
For ere the glass, that now begins to run,
Finish the process of his sandy hour,
These eyes, that see the now well-colour'd,
Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead.
[Drum afar off.
Hark! hark! the Dauphin's drum, a warn-
ing bell,

Sings heavy musick to thy timorous soul;
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

[Exeunt General, &c. from the walls Tal. He fables not, 1 hear the enemy;

Out, some light horsemen 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 the yelping kennel of French curs!
If we be English deer, be then iu blood:
Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch;
But rather moody mad, ånd desperate stags,
Turn on the bloody 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.
God, and saint George! Talbot, and England's
right!

Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight!

SCENE III.

Plains in Gascony.

[Exeunt.

Enter York, with Forces; to him a Messenger.

York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again,

That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin? Mess. They are return'd, my Lord; and give it out,

That he is march'd to Bourdeaux 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, aud made their march for Bourdeaux.

York. A plague upon that villain Somerset ;

That thus delays my promised supply
Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege!
Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid;
And I am louted by a traitor villain,
And cannot help the noble chevalier:
God comfort him in this necessity!
If be 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 noble Talhot;
Who now is girdled with a waist of iron,
And hemm'd about with grim destruction:
To Bourdeaux, warlike Duke! to Bourdeaux,

York!

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

York. O God! 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 war like word:

We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get;

All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset.

Lucy. Then, God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul!

And on his son young John; whom, 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 noble Talbot have, To bid his young son welcome to his grave? Away! vexation almost stops my breath, That sunder'd 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.
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 IV.

Other Plains of Gascony.

Enter SOMERSET, with his Forces; an Officer of TALBOT's with him.

Som. It is too late; I cannot send them now: This expediton 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

: