Yorke. Are not the speedy scouts return'd againe, That dog'd the mighty Army of the Dolphin? Mess. They are return'd my Lord, and giue it out, That he is march'd to Burdeaux with his power To fight with Talbot as he march'd along. By your espyals were discouered Two mightier Troopes then that the Dolphin led, Which ioyn'd with him, and made their march for Burdeaux Yorke. A plague vpon that Villaine Somerset, That thus delayes my promised supply Of horsemen, that were leuied for this siege. Renowned Talbot doth expect my ayde, And I am lowted by a Traitor Villaine, And cannot helpe the noble Cheualier: God comfort him in this necessity: If he miscarry, farewell Warres in France. Enter another Messenger
2.Mes. Thou Princely Leader of our English strength, Neuer so needfull on the earth of France, Spurre to the rescue of the Noble Talbot, Who now is girdled with a waste of Iron, And hem'd about with grim destruction: To Burdeaux warlike Duke, to Burdeaux Yorke, Else farwell Talbot, France, and Englands honor
Yorke. O God, that Somerset who in proud heart Doth stop my Cornets, were in Talbots place, So should wee saue a valiant Gentleman, By forfeyting a Traitor, and a Coward: Mad ire, and wrathfull fury makes me weepe, That thus we dye, while remisse Traitors sleepe
Mes. O send some succour to the distrest Lord
Yorke. He dies, we loose: I breake my warlike word: We mourne, France smiles: We loose, they dayly get, All long of this vile Traitor Somerset
Mes. Then God take mercy on braue Talbots soule, And on his Sonne yong Iohn, who two houres since, I met in trauaile toward his warlike Father; This seuen yeeres did not Talbot see his sonne, And now they meete where both their liues are done
Yorke. Alas, what ioy shall noble Talbot haue, To bid his yong sonne welcome to his Graue: Away, vexation almost stoppes my breath, That sundred friends greete in the houre of death. Lucie farewell, no more my fortune can, But curse the cause I cannot ayde the man. Maine, Bloys, Poytiers, and Toures, are wonne away, Long all of Somerset, and his delay.
Exit
Mes. Thus while the Vulture of sedition, Feedes in the bosome of such great Commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to losse: The Conquest of our scarse-cold Conqueror, That euer-liuing man of Memorie, Henrie the fift: Whiles they each other crosse, Liues, Honours, Lands, and all, hurrie to losse. Enter Somerset with his Armie.
Som. It is too late, I cannot send them now: This expedition was by Yorke and Talbot, Too rashly plotted. All our generall force, Might with a sally of the very Towne Be buckled with: the ouer-daring Talbot Hath sullied all his glosse of former Honor By this vnheedfull, desperate, wilde aduenture: Yorke set him on to fight, and dye in shame, That Talbot dead, great Yorke might beare the name
Cap. Heere is Sir William Lucie, who with me Set from our ore-matcht forces forth for ayde
Som. How now Sir William, whether were you sent? Lu. Whether my Lord, from bought & sold L[ord]. Talbot, Who ring'd about with bold aduersitie, Cries out for noble Yorke and Somerset, To beate assayling death from his weake Regions, And whiles the honourable Captaine there Drops bloody swet from his warre-wearied limbes, And in aduantage lingring lookes for rescue, You his false hopes, the trust of Englands honor, Keepe off aloofe with worthlesse emulation: Let not your priuate discord keepe away The leuied succours that should lend him ayde, While he renowned Noble Gentleman Yeeld vp his life vnto a world of oddes. Orleance the Bastard, Charles, Burgundie, Alanson, Reignard, compasse him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default