Page 267 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

The sword of Orléans hath not made me smart;
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, [45]
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
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, [50]
And 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.

T ALBOT

Then follow thou thy desp’rate sire of Crete,
Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet. [55]
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father’s side,
And commendable proved, let’s die in pride.

Exeunt.

Scene VII IT

Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led [by a Servant].

T ALBOT

Where is my other life? Mine own is gone.
O, where’s young Talbot, where is valiant John?
Triumphant Death, smeared with captivity,
Young Talbot’s valour makes me smile at thee.
When he perceived me shrink and on my knee, [5]
His bloody sword he brandished over me,
And, like a hungry lion, did commence
Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience;
But when my angry guardant stood alone,
Tend’ring my ruin and assailed of none, [10]
Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust’ring battle of the French;
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His over-mounting spirit; and there died [15]