And good my lord of Somerset, unite

  Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot165,

  And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors166,

  Go cheerfully together and digest167

  Your angry choler168 on your enemies.

  Ourself, my Lord Protector and the rest,

  After some respite170, 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 rout173.

  Exeunt all but York, Warwick, Exeter [and] Vernon. Flourish

  WARWICK    My lord of York, I promise you, the king

  Prettily175, methought, did play the orator.

  RICHARD DUKE OF YORK    And so he did: but yet I like it not,

  In that he wears the badge of Somerset.

  WARWICK    Tush, that was but his fancy178, blame him not:

  I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.

  RICHARD DUKE OF YORK    An if I wist180 he did— but let it rest:

  Other affairs must now be managèd.

  Exeunt [all but] Exeter

  EXETER    Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice:

  For had the passions183 of thy heart burst out,

  I fear we should have seen deciphered184 there

  More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,

  Than yet can be imagined or supposed:

  But howsoe’er, no simple187 man that sees

  This jarring discord of nobility,

  This shouldering189 of each other in the court,

  This factious bandying of their favourites190,

  But that it doth presage some ill event191.

  ’Tis much192 when sceptres are in children’s hands:

  But more, when envy breeds unkind193 division,

  There comes the ruin, there begins confusion194.

  Exit

  [Act 4 Scene 2]

  running scene 14

  Enter Talbot, with Trump and Drum before Bordeaux

  TALBOT    Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter:

  Summon their general unto the wall.

  [Trumpet] sounds. Enter General aloft

  English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,

  Servant in arms to Harry King of England,

  And thus he would5: 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 bloody8 power.

  But if you frown upon this proffered peace,

  You tempt the fury of my three attendants,

  Lean famine, quartering11 steel, and climbing fire,

  Who in a moment even12 with the earth

  Shall lay your stately and air-braving13 towers,

  If you forsake14 the offer of their love.

  GENERAL    Thou ominous and fearful owl of death15,

  Our nation’s terror and their bloody scourge,

  The period17 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 out20 and fight.

  If thou retire, the dauphin well appointed21

  Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee.

  On either hand thee there are squadrons pitched23,

  To wall24 thee from the liberty of flight;

  And no way canst thou turn thee for redress25,

  But death doth front thee with apparent spoil26,

  And pale27 destruction meets thee in the face:

  Ten thousand French have ta’en the sacrament28

  To rive29 their dangerous artillery

  Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot:

  Lo, there thou stand’st, a breathing valiant man

  Of an invincible unconquered spirit:

  This is the latest33 glory of thy praise

  That I thy enemy due34 thee withal:

  For ere the glass35 that now begins to run

  Finish the process of his sandy hour,

  These eyes that see thee now well colourèd37

  Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale and dead.

  Drum afar off

  Hark, hark, the dauphin’s drum, a warning bell39,

  Sings heavy40 music to thy timorous soul,

  And mine shall ring thy dire departure41 out.

  Exit

  TALBOT    He fables42 not: I hear the enemy:

  Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings43.

  O negligent and heedless discipline44,

  How are we parked and bounded in a pale45?

  A little herd of England’s timorous deer,

  Mazed with a yelping kennel of French curs47.

  If we be English deer, be then in blood48,

  Not rascal-like to fall down with a pinch49,

  But rather, moody-mad50: and desperate stags

  Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel51

  And make the cowards stand aloof at bay52:

  Sell every man his life as dear as mine,

  And they shall find dear54 deer of us, my friends.

  God and Saint George, Talbot and England’s right,

  Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight!

  [Exeunt]

  [Act 4 Scene 3]

  running scene 15

  Enter a Messenger that meets York. Enter York with Trumpet and many Soldiers

  RICHARD DUKE OF YORK    Are not the speedy scouts returned again,

  That dogged2 the mighty army of the dauphin?

  MESSENGER    They are returned, my lord, and give it out3

  That he is marched to Bordeaux with his power

  To fight with Talbot: as he marched along,

  By your espials6 were discoverèd

  Two mightier troops than that the dauphin led,

  Which joined with him and made their march for Bordeaux.

  RICHARD DUKE OF YORK    A plague upon that villain Somerset,

  That thus delays my promisèd supply

  Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege.

  Renownèd Talbot doth expect my aid,

  And I am louted13 by a traitor villain,

  And cannot help the noble chevalier:

  God comfort him in this necessity15:

  If he miscarry16, farewell wars in France.

  Enter another messenger [Sir William Lucy]

  LUCY    Thou princely leader of our English strength,

  Never so needful18 on the earth of France,

  Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot,

  Who now is girdled with a waist20 of iron

  And hemmed about with grim destruction:

  To Bordeaux, warlike duke, to Bordeaux, York,

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

  RICHARD DUKE OF YORK O    God, that Somerset, who in proud heart

  Doth stop my cornets25, 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 remiss29 traitors sleep.

  LUCY O, send some succour to the distressed30 lord.

  RICHARD DUKE OF YORK    He dies, we lose: I break my warlike word:

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

  All ’long of33 this vile traitor Somerset.

  LUCY    Then God take mercy on brave Talbot’s soul,

  And on his son young John, who 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.

  RICHARD DUKE OF YORK    Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have

  To bid his young son welcome to his grave?

  Away, vexation41 almost stops my breath,

  That sundered friends42 greet in the hour of death.

  Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can43,

  But curse the cause44 I cannot aid the man.

  Maine, Blois, Poitiers, and Tours are won away,

  ’Long all46 of Somerset and his delay.

  Exeunt [all but Lucy]

  LUCY    Thus, while the vulture of sedition47

  Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,

  Sleeping neglection49 doth betray to loss

  The conquest of our scarce-cold50 conqueror,

  That ever-living man of memory51,

  Henry the Fifth: whiles they each other cross52,

  Lives, honours, lauds53, and all hurry to loss.

  [Exit]

  [Act 4 Scene 4]

  running scene 16

  Enter Somerset with his army, [a Captain of Talbot’s with him]

  SOMERSET    It is too late, I cannot send them now:

  This expedition2 was by York and Talbot

  Too rashly plotted. All our general force

  Might with a sally of the very town4

  Be buckled with5: the over-daring Talbot

  Hath sullied all his gloss6 of former honour

  By this unheedful7, desperate, wild adventure:

  York set him on to fight and die in shame,

  That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.

  CAPTAIN    Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me

  Set from our o’ermatched11 forces forth for aid.

  [Enter Sir William Lucy]

  SOMERSET    How now, Sir William, whither were you sent?

  LUCY    Whither, my lord? From bought and sold13 Lord Talbot,

  Who, ringed about with bold adversity,

  Cries out for noble York and Somerset,

  To beat assailing death from his weak legions16:

  And whiles the honourable captain there

  Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs,

  And, in advantage ling’ring19, looks for rescue,

  You, his false hopes, the trust20 of England’s honour,

  Keep off aloof with worthless emulation21:

  Let not your private discord22 keep away

  The levied succours23 that should lend him aid,

  While he, renownèd noble gentleman,

  Yields up his life unto a world of25 odds.

  Orléans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,

  Alençon, Reignier, compass him about27,

  And Talbot perisheth by your default28.

  SOMERSET    York set him on29: York should have sent him aid.

  LUCY    And York as fast upon your grace exclaims,

  Swearing that you withhold his levied host31,

  Collected for this expedition.

  SOMERSET    York lies: he might have sent33 and had the horse:

  I owe him little duty, and less love,

  And take foul scorn35 to fawn on him by sending.

  LUCY    The fraud of England, not the force of France,

  Hath now entrapped the noble-minded Talbot:

  Never to England shall he bear his life,

  But dies betrayed to fortune by your strife.

  SOMERSET    Come, go: I will dispatch the horsemen straight:

  Within six hours they will be at his aid.

  LUCY    Too late comes rescue: he is ta’en or slain.

  For fly he could not, if he would have fled,

  And fly would Talbot never, though44 he might.

  SOMERSET    If he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu.

  LUCY    His fame lives in the world, his shame in you.

  Exeunt

  [Act 4 Scene 5]

  running scene 17

  Enter Talbot and his son [John]

  TALBOT    O young John Talbot, I did send for thee

  To tutor thee in stratagems of war,

  That Talbot’s name might be in thee revived

  When sapless age and weak unable limbs

  Should bring thy father to his drooping5 chair.

  But — O malignant and ill-boding6 stars —

  Now thou art come unto a feast of death,

  A terrible and unavoided8 danger:

  Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse,

  And I’ll direct thee how thou shalt escape

  By sudden11 flight. Come, dally not, be gone.

  JOHN    Is my name Talbot? And am I your son?

  And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,

  Dishonour not her honourable name,

  To make a bastard and a slave of me:

  The world will say, he is not Talbot’s blood,

  That basely fled when noble Talbot stood.

  TALBOT    Fly to revenge my death if I be slain.

  JOHN    He that flies so will ne’er return again.

  TALBOT    If we both stay, we both are sure to die.

  JOHN    Then let me stay and, father, do you fly:

  Your loss is great, so your regard22 should be;

  My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.

  Upon my death the French can little boast;

  In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.

  Flight cannot stain the honour you have won,

  But mine it will, that no exploit27 have done.

  You fled for vantage28, everyone will swear:

  But if I bow29, they’ll say it was for fear.

  There is no hope that ever I will stay,

  If the first hour I shrink and run away:

  Here on my knee I beg mortality32,

  Rather than life preserved with infamy.

  TALBOT    Shall all thy mother’s hopes lie in one tomb?

  JOHN    Ay, rather than I’ll shame my mother’s womb.

  TALBOT    Upon my blessing I command thee go.

  JOHN    To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.

  TALBOT    Part of thy father may be saved in thee.

  JOHN    No part of him but will be shame in me.

  TALBOT    Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.

  JOHN    Yes, your renownèd name: shall flight abuse41 it?

  TALBOT    Thy father’s charge42 shall clear thee from that stain.

  JOHN    You cannot witness for me, being slain.

  If death be so apparent44, then both fly.

  TALBOT    And leave my followers here to fight and die?

  My age46 was never tainted with such shame.

  JOHN    And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?

  No more can I be severed from your side,

  Than can yourself yourself in twain divide:

  Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;

  For live I will not, if my father die.

  TALBOT    Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son,

  Born to eclipse53 thy life this afternoon:

  Come, side by side, together live and die,

  And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.

  Exeunt

  [Act 4 Scene 6]

  running scene 17 continues

  Alarum: excursions, wherein Talbot’s son [John] is hemmed about [by French soldiers], and Talbot rescues him

  TALBOT    Saint George and victory! Fight, soldiers, fight:

  The Regent2 hath with Talbot broke his word

  And left us to the rage of France his3 sword.

  Where is John Talbot? Pause, and take thy breath:

  I gave thee life and rescued thee from death.

  JOHN    O, twice my father, twice am I thy son:

  The life thou gav’st me first was lost and done,

  Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,

  To my determined time thou gav’st new date9.

  TALBOT    When from the dauphin’s crest10 thy sword struck fire,

  It warmed thy father’s heart with proud desire

  Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age,

  Quickened with youthful spleen13 and warlike rage,

  Beat down Alençon, Orléans, Burgundy,

  And from the pride of Gallia15 rescued thee.

  The ireful16 bastard Orléans, that drew blood

  From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood17

  Of thy first fight, I soon encountered,

  And interchanging blows I quickly shed

  Some of his bastard blood, and in disgrace20

  Bespoke him thus: ‘Contaminated, base

  And misbegotten22 blood I spill of thine,

  Mean23 and right poor, for that pure blood of mine

  Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy.’

  Here, purposing25 the Bastard to destroy,

  Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father’s care:

  Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?

  Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,

  Now thou art sealed29 the son of chivalry?

  Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead:

  The help of one stands me in little stead.

  O, too much folly is it, well I wot32,

  To hazard all our lives in one small boat.

  If I today die not with Frenchmen’s rage,

  Tomorrow I shall die with mickle35 age.

  By me they nothing gain, and if I stay

  ’Tis but the short’ning of my life one day.