Alarum: Excursions, wherein Talbots Sonne is hemm'd about, and Talbot rescues him.
Talb. Saint George, and Victory; fight Souldiers, fight: The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word, And left vs to the rage of France his Sword. Where is Iohn Talbot? pawse, and take thy breath, I gaue thee Life, and rescu'd thee from Death
Iohn. O twice my Father, twice am I thy Sonne: The Life thou gau'st me first, was lost and done, Till with thy Warlike Sword, despight of Fate, To my determin'd time thou gau'st new date
Talb. When fro[m] the Dolphins Crest thy Sword struck fire, It warm'd thy Fathers heart with prowd desire Of bold-fac't Victorie. Then Leaden Age, Quicken'd with Youthfull Spleene, and Warlike Rage, Beat downe Alanson, Orleance, Burgundie, And from the Pride of Gallia rescued thee. The irefull Bastard Orleance, that drew blood From thee my Boy, and had the Maidenhood Of thy first fight, I soone encountred, And interchanging blowes, I quickly shed Some of his Bastard blood, and in disgrace Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base, And mis-begotten blood, I spill of thine, Meane and right poore, for that pure blood of mine, Which thou didst force from Talbot, my braue Boy. Here purposing the Bastard to destroy, Came in strong rescue. Speake thy Fathers care: Art thou not wearie, Iohn? How do'st thou fare? Wilt thou yet leaue the Battaile, Boy, and flie, Now thou art seal'd the Sonne of Chiualrie? Flye, to reuenge my death when I am dead, The helpe of one stands me in little stead. Oh, too much folly is it, well I wot, To hazard all our liues in one small Boat. If I to day dye not with Frenchmens Rage, To morrow I shall dye with mickle Age. By me they nothing gaine, and if I stay, 'Tis but the shortning of my Life one day. In thee thy Mother dyes, our Households Name, My Deaths Reuenge, thy Youth, and Englands Fame: All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay; All these are sau'd, if thou wilt flye away
Iohn. The Sword of Orleance hath not made me smart, These words of yours draw Life-blood from my Heart. On that aduantage, bought with such a shame, To saue a paltry Life, and slay bright Fame, Before young Talbot from old Talbot flye, The Coward Horse that beares me, fall and dye: And like me to the pesant Boyes of France, To be Shames scorne, and subiect of Mischance. Surely, by all the Glorie you haue wonne, And if I flye, I am not Talbots Sonne. Then talke no more of flight, it is no boot, If Sonne to Talbot, dye at Talbots foot
Talb. Then follow thou thy desp'rate Syre of Creet, Thou Icarus, thy Life to me is sweet: If thou wilt fight, fight by thy Fathers side, And commendable prou'd, let's dye in pride. Enter.
Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led.
Talb. Where is my other Life? mine owne is gone. O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant Iohn? Triumphant Death, smear'd with Captiuitie, Young Talbots Valour makes me smile at thee. When he perceiu'd me shrinke, and on my Knee, His bloodie Sword he brandisht ouer mee, And like a hungry Lyon did commence Rough deeds of Rage, and sterne Impatience: But when my angry Guardant stood alone, Tendring my ruine, and assayl'd of none, Dizzie-ey'd Furie, and great rage of Heart, Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clustring Battaile of the French: And in that Sea of Blood, my Boy did drench His ouer-mounting Spirit; and there di'de My Icarus, my Blossome, in his pride. Enter with Iohn Talbot, borne.
Seru. O my deare Lord, loe where your Sonne is borne