Imatges de pÓgina

Char. Now shine it like a comet of revenge, A prophet to the fall of all our foes!

Alen. Defer no time, Delays have dangerous

Enter, and cry-The Dauphin!-presently,
And then do execution on the watch. [They enter.
Alarums. Enter Talbot, and certain English.
Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy

If Talbot but survive thy treachery.—
Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
That hardly we escap'd the pridel of France.
[Exeunt to the town.
Alarum: Excursions. Enter from the town,
Bedford, brought in sick, in a chair, with Tal-
bot, Burgundy, and the English forces. Then,
enter on the walls, La Pucelle, Charles, Bastard,
Alençon, and others.

And as his father here was conqueror;
As sure as in this late betrayed town
Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried;
So sure I swear to get the town, or die.

Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy vows.
Tal. But, ere we go, regard this dying prince,
The valiant duke of Bedford :-Come, my lord,
We will bestow you in some better place,
Fitter for sickness, and for crazy age.

Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me :
Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen,
And will be partner of your weal, or wo.
Bur. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade

Bed. Not to be gone from hence; for once I read
That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick,
Came to the field, and vanquished his foes:
Methinks, I should revive the soldiers' hearts,
Because I ever found them as myself.

Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!-
Then be it so:-Heavens keep old Bedford safe!-

Puc. Good morrow, gallants! want ye corn for And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,


I think, the duke of Burgundy will fast

Before he'll buy again at such a rate:
'Twas full of darnel; Do you like the taste?

Bur. Scoff on, vile fiend, and shameless court


I trust, ere long, to choke thee with thine own,
And make thee curse the harvest of that corn.
Char. Your grace may starve, perhaps, before

that time.

Bed. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason!

Puc. What will you do, good grey-beard? break a lance,

And run a tilt at death within a chair?

Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite,
Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours!
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age,
And twit with cowardice a man half dead?
Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again,
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.
Puc. Are you so hot, sir?-Yet, Pucelle, hold
thy peace;

If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.

[Talbot, and the rest, consult together. God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker? Tal. Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the field?

Puc. Belike, your lordship takes us then for fools,
To try if that our own be ours, or no.

Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecaté,
But unto thee, Alençon, and the rest:
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?
Alen. Signior, no.

Tal. Signior, hang!-base muleteers of France!
Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls,
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.

Puc. Captains, away: let's get us from the walls; For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks.

But gather we our forces out of hand,
And set upon our boasting enemy.

[Exeunt Burgundy, Talbot, and forces, leav-
ing Bedford, and others.

Alarum: Excursions. Enter Sir John Fastolfe, and a Captain.

Capt. Whither away, sir John Fastolfe, in such haste?

Fast. Whither away? to save myself by flight;
We are like to have the overthrow again.

Capt. What! will you fly, and leave lord Talbot?

All the Talbots in the world to save my life. [Exit.
Capt. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee!


Retreat: Excursions. Enter from the town, La
Pucelle, Alençon, Charles, &c.; and exeunt,

Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please;
For I have seen our enemies' overthrow.
What is the trust or strength of foolish man?
They, that of late were daring with their scoffs,
Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves.

[Dies, and is carried off in his chair.
Alarum: Enter Talbot, Burgundy, and others.
Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again!
This is a double honour, Burgundy:
Yet, heavens have glory for this victory!

Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
Enshrines thee in his heart; and there erects
Thy noble deeds, as valour's monument.

Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now?

I think, her old familiar is asleep :

Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks ?2

God be wi' you, my lord! we came, sir, but to tell|| What, all a-mort?3 Rouen hangs her head for grief,

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That such a valiant company are fled.
Now will we take some order4 in the town,
Placing therein some expert officers;
And then depart to Paris, to the king;
For there young Harry, with his nobles, lies.
Bur. What wills lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy.
Tal. But yet, before we go, let's not forget
The noble duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
But see his exequies5 fulfill'd in Roüen;

(4) Make some necessary dispositions.
(5) Funeral rites.

A braver soldier never couched lance,
A gentler heart did never sway in court:
But kings, and mightiest potentates, must die;
For that's the end of human misery. [Exeunt.
SCENE III-The same. The plains near the
city. Enter Charles, the Bastard, Alençon, La
Pucelle, and forces.

Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident,
Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered:
Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,
For things that are not to be remedied.
Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while,
And like a peacock sweep along his tail;
We'll pull his plumes, and take away his train,
If dauphin, and the rest, will be but rul'd.
Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto,
And of thy cunning had no diffidence;
One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.

Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies, And we will make thee famous through the world. Alen. We'll set thy statue in some holy place, And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint; Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good. Puc. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise; By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words, We will entice the duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot, and to follow us.

Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for Henry's warriors; Nor should that nation boast it so with us, But be extirped1 from our provinces.

Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help!
One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom,
Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign

Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears,
And wash away thy country's stained spots!

Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words,

Or nature makes me suddenly relent.

Puc. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee,

Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.
Who join'st thou with, but with a lordly nation,
That will not trust thee, but for profit's sake?
When Talbot hath set footing once in France,
And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill,
Who then, but English Henry, will be lord,
And thou be thrust out, like a fugitive?
Call we to mind,-and mark but this, for proof;-
Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe?
And was he not in England prisoner?
But, when they heard he was thine enemy,
They set him free, without his ransom paid,
In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends.
See then! thou fight'st against thy countrymen,
And join'st with them will be thy slaughter-men.
Come, come, return; return, thou wand'ring lord;
Charles, and the rest, will take thee in their arms.
Bur. I am vanquished; these haughty words of

Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot,
And made me almost yield upon my knees.~

Alen. For ever should they be expuls'd2 from Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen!


And not have title to an earldom here.
Puc. Your honours shall perceive how I will work,
To bring this matter to the wished end.

[Drums heard. Hark! by the sound of drum, you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. An English march. Enter, and pass over at a distance, Talbot and his forces.

There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread; And all the troops of English after him.

A French march. Enter the Duke of Burgundy and forces.

Now, in the rearward, comes the duke and his;
Fortune, in favour, makes him lag behind.
Summon a parley, we will talk with him.
[A parley sounded.
Char. A parley with the duke of Burgundy.
Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?

And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace:
My forces and my power of men are yours;→
So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee.
Puc. Done like a Frenchman; turn, and turn

Char. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes us fresh.

Bast. And doth beget new courage in our breasts. Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, And doth deserve a coronet of gold.

Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our



And seek how we may prejudice the foe.
SCENE IV.-Paris. A room in the palace.
Enter King Henry, Gloster, and other Lords,
Vernon, Basset, &c. To them Talbot, and some
of his Officers.

Tal. My gracious prince,-and honourable

peers,Hearing of your arrival in this realm, Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy coun-I have a while given truce unto my wars,


Bur. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching hence.

Char. Speak, Pucelle; and enchant him with thy words.

Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France!
Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious.
Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
And see the cities and the towns defac'd
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe!

As looks the mother on her lowly babe,
When death doth close his tender dying eyes,
See, see, the pining malady of France;
Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,
Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast!
O, turn thy edged sword another way;

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To do my duty to my sovereign:

In sign whereof, this arm-that hath reclaim'd
To your obedience fifty fortresses,

Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength,
Besides five hundred prisoners of esteem,--
Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet;
And, with submissive loyalty of heart,
Ascribes the glory of his conquest got,
First to my God, and next unto your grace.

K. Hen. Is this the lord Talbot, uncle Gloster,
That hath so long been resident in France?
Glo. Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege.
K. Hen. Welcome, brave captain, and victorious

When I was young (as yet I am not old,)

I do remember how my father said,
A stouter champion never handled sword.

(3) Elevated.

Long since we were resolved1 of your truth,
Your faithful service, and your toil in war;
Yet never have you tasted our reward,
Or been reguerdon'd2 with so much as thanks,
Because till now we never saw your face:
Therefore, stand up; and, for these good deserts,
We here create you earl of Shrewsbury;
And in our coronation take your place.

[Exeunt King Henry, Gloster, Talbot, and

Ver. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea, Disgracing of these colours that I wear In honour of my noble lord of York,Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st? Bas. Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage The envious barking of your saucy tongue Against my lord the duke of Somerset.

Ver. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is. Bas. Why, what is he? as good a man as York. Ver. Hark ye; not so: in witness, take ye that. [Strikes him. Bas. Villain, thou know'st, the law of arms is such, That, who so draws a sword, 'tis present death; Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood. But I'll unto his majesty, and crave I may have liberty to venge this wrong; When thou shalt see, I'll meet thee to thy cost. Ver. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you; And, after, meet you sooner than you would.



SCENE I-The same. A room of state. Enter King Henry, Gloster, Exeter, York, Suffolk, Somerset, Winchester, Warwick, Talbot, the Governor of Paris, and others.

Glo. Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head. Win. God save king Henry, of that name the Sixth!

Were there surpris'd, and taken prisoners. Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss; Or whether that such cowards ought to wear This ornament of knighthood, yea, or no.

Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamous, And ill beseeming any common man; Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.

Tal. When first this order was ordain'd, my lords,
Knights of the garter were of noble birth;
Valiant, and virtuous, full of haughty courage,
Such as were grown to credit by the wars;
Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress,
But always resolute in most extremes.6
He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort,
Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight,
Profaning this most honourable order;
And should (if I were worthy to be judge,)
Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain
That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.
K. Hen. Stain to thy countrymen! thou hear'st
thy doom:

Be packing therefore, thou that wast a knight;
Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death.-
[Exit Fastolfe.
And now, my lord protector, view the letter
Sent from our uncle duke of Burgundy.
Glo. What means his grace, that he hath chang'd
his style? [Viewing the superscription.
No more but, plain and bluntly,-To the king?
Hath he forgot, he is his sovereign?
Or doth this churlish superscription
Pretend? some alteration in good will?
What's here?-I have, upon especial cause,-


Mov'd with compassion of my country's wreck,
Together with the pitiful complaints
Of such as your oppression feeds upon,-
Forsaken your pernicious faction,

And join'd with Charles, the rightful king of

O monstrous treachery! Can this be so;
That in alliance, amity, and oaths,
oath-There should be found such false dissembling guile?
K. Hen. What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?
Glo. He doth, my lord; and is become your foe.
K. Hen. Is that the worst, this letter doth contain?
Glo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.
K. Hen. Why then, lord Talbot there shall talk
with him,

Glo. Now, governor of Paris, take your [Governor kneels. That you elect no other king but him: Esteem none friends, but such as are his friends; · And none your foes, but such as shall pretend3 Malicious practices against his state: This shall ye do, so help you righteous God! [Exeunt Governor and his train. Enter Sir John Fastolfe.

Fast. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from

To haste unto your coronation,
A letter was deliver'd to my hands,
Writ to your grace from the duke of Burgundy.
Tal. Shame to the duke of Burgundy, and thee!
I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next,
To tear the garter from thy craven's leg,

[Plucking it off
(Which I have done) because unworthily
Thou wast installed in that high degree.-
Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest:
This dastard, at the battle of Patay,
When but in all I was six thousand strong,
And that the French were almost ten to one,-
Before we met, or that a stroke was given,
Like to a trusty 'squire, did run away;
In which assault we lost twelve hundred men;
Myself, and divers gentlemen beside,

(1) Confirmed in opinion. (2) Rewarded. Design. (4) Mean, dastardly. (5) High.

And give him chastisement for this abuse :--
My lord, how say you? are you not content?
Tal. Content, my liege? Yes; but that I am

I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd.
K. Hen. Then gather strength, and march unte

him straight:

And what offence it is, to flout his friends.
Let him perceive, how ill we brook his treason;

Tal. I go, my lord; in heart desiring still, You may behold confusion of your foes.


Enter Vernon and Basset. Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign! Bas. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too! York. This is my servant; Hear him, noble


Som. And this is mine; Sweet Henry, favour him! K. Hen. Be patient, lords; and give them leave

to speak.

Say, gentlemen, What makes you thus exclaim?
And wherefore crave you combat? or with whom?

(6) i. e. In greatest extremities.
(7) Design, (8) Anticipated.

Ver. With him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong.

Bas. And I with him; for he hath done me


K. Hen. What is that wrong whereof you both

First let me know, and then I'll answer you.
Bas. Crossing the sea from England into France,
This fellow here, with envious carping tongue,
Upbraided me about the rose I wear;
Saying-the sanguine colour of the leaves
Did represent my master's blushing cheeks,
When stubbornly he did repugn' the truth,
About a certain question in the law,
Argu'd betwixt the duke of York and him;
With other vile and ignominious terms:
In confutation of which rude reproach,
And in defence of my lord's worthiness,
I crave the benefit of law of arms.

Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord:
For though he seem, with forged quaint conceit,
To set a gloss upon his bold intent,

Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him;
And he first took exceptions at this badge,
Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower
Bewray'd2 the faintness of my master's heart.

York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? Som. Your private grudge, my lord of York, will out,

Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.

K. Hen. Good Lord! what madness rules in
brain-sick men ;

When, for so slight and frivolous a cause,
Such factious emulations shall arise!-
Good cousins both, of York and Somerset,
Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.
York. Let this dissension first be tried by fight,
And then your highness shall command a peace.
Som. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone;
Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.

York. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset.
Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first.
Bas. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord.
Glo. Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife!
And perish ye, with your audacious prate!
Presumptuous vassals! are you not asham'd,
With this immodest clamorous outrage
To trouble and disturb the king and us?
And you, my lords,-methinks, you do not well,
To bear with their perverse objections;
Much less, to take occasion from their mouths
To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves;
Let me persuade you take a better course.
Exe. It grieves his highness;-Good my lords,
be friends.

K. Hen. Come hither, you that would be combatants:

Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our favour,
Quite to forget this quarrel, and the cause.-
And you, my lords,-remember where we are;
In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation :
If they perceive dissension in our looks,
And that within ourselves we disagree,
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd
To wilful disobedience, and rebel?
Beside, what infamy will there arise,
When foreign princes shall be certified,
That, for a toy, a thing of no regard,
King Henry's peers, and chief nobility,
Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France?
O, think upon the conquest of my father,
(1) Resist. (2) Betrayed.
(3) 'Tis strange, or wonderful.

My tender years; and let us not forego
That for a trifle, that was bought with blood!
Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.
I see no reason, if I wear this rose,

[Putting on a red rose.
That any one should therefore be suspicious
I more incline to Somerset, than York:
Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both:
As well they may upbraid me with my crown,
Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd.
But your discretions better can persuade,
Than I am able to instruct or teach:
And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
So let us still continue peace and love.—
Cousin of York, we institute your grace
To be our regent in these parts of France:
And good my lord of Somerset, unite

Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;~
And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,
Go cheerfully together, and digest

Your angry choler on your enemies.
Ourself. my lord protector, and the rest,
After some respite, will return to Calais;
From thence to England; where I hope ere long
To be presented, by your victories,
With Charles, Alençon, and that traitorous rout.
[Flourish. Exeunt King Henry, Glo. Som.
Win Suf. and Basset.
War. My lord of York, I promise you, the king
Prettily, methought, did play the orator.

York. And so he did; but yet I like it not,
In that he wears the badge of Somerset.
War. Tush! that was but his fancy, blame him not;
I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harin.
York. And, if I wist, he did,-But let it rest;
Other affairs must now be managed.

[Exeunt York, Warwick, and Vernon. Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy


For, had the passions of thy heart burst out,
I fear, we should have seen decipher'd there
More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,
Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'u.
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,3 when sceptres are in children's hands;
But more, when envy4 breeds unkind division;
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. [Ex.
SCENE II.-France. Before Bourdeaux. En-
ter Talbot, with his forees.

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,
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,
Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire;
Who, in a moment, even with the earth
Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers,
If you forsake the offer of their love.
Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death,

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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 fortified,
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 either 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 with apparent spoil,
And pale destruction meets thee in the face.
Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament
To rive their dangerous artillery

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, duel thee withal;

For ere the glass, that now begins to run,
Finish the process of his sandy hour,
These eyes, that see thee now well coloured,
Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead.
[Drum afar off
Hark! hark! the dauphin's drum, a warning bell,
Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul;
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.


[Exeunt General, &c. from the walls. Tal. He fables not, I 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 pále; A little herd of England's timorous deer, Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs If we be English deer, be then in blood;2 Not rascal-like,3 to fall down with a pinch; But rather moody-mad, and 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! [Exe. SCENE III.—Plains in Gascony. 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, and 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 lowted5 by a traitor villain,

And cannot help the noble chevalier:
God comfort him in this necessity!

If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.

Enter Sir William Lucy.

Never so needful on the earth of France,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot;
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


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 iré, 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 warlike 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


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.6

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.


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 Tal-
bot's with him.


Som. It is too late; I cannot send them now: Too rashly plotted; all our general force This expedition was by York, and Talbot, Might with a sally of the very town Be buckled with the over-daring Talbot Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour, By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventurė : York set him on to fight, and die in shame, That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name. Offi. Here is sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid.

Enter Sir William Lucy.

Som. How now, sir William? whither were you sent?

Lucy. Whither, my lord? from bought and sold lord Talbot ;8

Who, ring'd about9 with bold adversity,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset,
To beat assailing death from his weak legions.

And whiles the honourable captain there

Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs, And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue,

Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour,

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Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
Let not your private discord keep away

(7) Alluding to the tale of Prometheus.

(8) i. e. From one utterly ruined by the treache rous practices of others.

(9) Encircled.

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