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Plains in Gascony.
[Enter a Messenger that meets YORK. Enter YORK with trumpet and many
Soldiers]
YORK
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Are not | the speed|y scouts | returned | again,
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2->
That dogged | the migh|ty ar|my of | the
Dauph||in?
MESSENGER
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They are | returned | my lord,| and give | it
out,
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That he | is marched | to Bour|deaux with | his
power
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To fight | with Tal|bot as | he marched | along,
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,
By your | espi|als were | discov|ered
,
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Two* might|ier troops | than that | the
Dauph|in led,
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Which joined | with him,| and made | their march
| for Bourdeaux.
YORK
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A plague | upon | that vil|lain Som|erset,
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That thus | delays | my prom|ised | supply
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Of horse|men, that | were lev|ied for | this
siege.
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Renown|ed Tal|bot doth | expect | my aid,
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And I | am lowt|ed by | a trait|or villain,
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And can|not help | the nob|le chev|alier:
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God com/fort him | in this | neces|sity:
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If he | miscar|ry, fare|well wars | in France.
[Enter another MESSENGER]
MESSENGER
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Thou prince|ly lead|er of | our Eng|lish
strength,
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Never | so need|ful on | the earth | of France,
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Spur to the | rescue | of the | noble | Talbot,
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Who now | is gird|led with | a waist | of iron,
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And hemmed | about | with grim | destruc|tion:
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To Bourdeaux war|like duke, to Bour|deaux^York,
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Else fare|well Tal|bot, France,| and Eng|land's
honor.
YORK
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O God,| that Som|erset | who in / proud heart
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Doth stop | my corn|ets, were | in Tal|bot's
place,
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So should | we save | a val|iant gent|leman,
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By for|feiting | a trait|or, and a | coward:
??
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Mad^ire,| and wrath|ful fu|ry makes | me weep,
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That thus | we die,| while re/miss trait|ors
sleep.
MESSENGER
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O send | some suc|cor to | the dis/tressed lord.
YORK
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He dies,| we lose:| I break | my war|like^word:
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We mourn,| France^smiles:| we lose,| they dai|ly
get,
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All along | of this vile trait|or Som|erset.
MESSENGER
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Then God | take* mer|cy on / brave Tal|bot's^soul,
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And on his | son young John, | who two |
hours^since,
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I met | in trav|el toward his / warlike | father;
x ,
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This seven | years did | not Tal|bot see | his
son, ??
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And now | they meet | where both | their lives |
are done.
YORK
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Alas,| what joy | shall nob|le Tal|bot have,
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To bid | his young | son wel/come to | his grave:
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Away,| vexa|tion al|most stops | my breath,
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That sund|ered friends | greet in | the hour | of
death.
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Lucy | farewell,| no more | my for|tune can,
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But curse | the cause | I can|not aid | the man.
T T
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Maine, Blois, Poic|tiers, and Tours,| are won |
away,
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Long^all | of Som|erset | and his | delay.
[Exit, with his soldiers]
MESSENGER
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Thus while | the vul|ture of | sedi|tion,
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Feeds in the | bosom | of such | great
com|manders,
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Sleeping | neglec|tion doth | betray | to loss:
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The con|quest of | our scarce | cold con/queror,
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That ev|er liv|ing man | of mem|ory,
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Henry | the Fifth:| whiles^they | each^oth|er
cross,
T Tx T
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Lives, honors, lands,| and all | hurry | to loss.
[Exit]