Page 260 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

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 [20]
And hemmed about with grim destruction.
To Bordeaux, warlike duke! To Bordeaux, York!
Else farewell Talbot, France, and England’s honour.

Y ORK

O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart
Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot’s place! [25]
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 remiss traitors sleep.

LUCY

O send some soccour to the distressed lord! [30]

Y ORK

[aside]
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 soul,
And on his son, young John, who two hours since [35]
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.

Y ORK

Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have
To bid his young son welcome to his grave? [40]
Away! Vexation almost stops my breath,
That sundered 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, Poitiers, and Tours are won away, [45]
Long all of Somerset and his delay.