A Field of Battle. | |
| |
Alarum: Excursions, wherein TALBOT’S Son is hemmed about, and TALBOT rescues him. | |
| Tal. Saint George and victory! fight, soldiers, fight! | |
| The regent hath with Talbot broke his word, | 4 |
| And left us to the rage of France his sword. | |
| Where is John Talbot? Pause, and take thy breath: | |
| I gave thee life and rescu’d thee from death. | |
| John. O! twice my father, twice am I thy son: | 8 |
| The life thou gav’st me first was lost and done, | |
| Till with thy war-like sword, despite of fate, | |
| To my determin’d time thou gav’st new date. | |
| Tal. When from the Dauphin’s crest thy sword struck fire, | 12 |
| It warm’d thy father’s heart with proud desire | |
| Of bold-fac’d victory. Then leaden age, | |
| Quicken’d with youthful spleen and war-like rage, | |
| Beat down Alençon, Orleans, Burgundy, | 16 |
| And from the pride of Gallia rescu’d thee. | |
| The ireful bastard Orleans,—that drew blood | |
| From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood | |
| Of thy first fight,—I soon encountered | 20 |
| And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed | |
| Some of his bastard blood; and, in disgrace, | |
| Bespoke him thus, ‘Contaminated, base, | |
| And misbegotten blood I spill of thine, | 24 |
| Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine | |
| Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy:’ | |
| Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, | |
| Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father’s care, | 28 |
| Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare? | |
| Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly, | |
| Now thou art seal’d the son of chivalry? | |
| Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead; | 32 |
| The help of one stands me in little stead. | |
| O! too much folly is it, well I wot, | |
| To hazard all our lives in one small boat. | |
| If I to-day die not with Frenchmen’s rage, | 36 |
| To-morrow I shall die with micke age: | |
| By me they nothing gain an if I stay; | |
| ’Tis but the short’ning of my life one day. | |
| In thee thy mother dies, our household’s name, | 40 |
| My death’s revenge, thy youth, and England’s fame. | |
| All these and more we hazard by thy stay; | |
| All these are sav’d if thou wilt fly away. | |
| John. The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart; | 44 |
| These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart. | |
| On that advantage, bought with such a shame, | |
| To save a paltry life and slay bright fame, | |
| Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly, | 48 |
| The coward horse that bears me fall and die! | |
| And like me to the peasant boys of France, | |
| To be shame’s scorn and subject of mischance! | |
| Surely, by all the glory you have won, | 52 |
| An if I fly, I am not Talbot’s son: | |
| Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot; | |
| If son to Talbot, die at Talbot’s foot. | |
| Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete, | 56 |
| Thou Icarus. Thy life to me is sweet: | |
| If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father’s side, | |
| And, commendable prov’d, let’s die in pride. [Exeunt. | |
