The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 5 of 9] · William Shakespeare
SCENE III. _Plains in Gascony_.
_Enter a_ Messenger _that meets_ YORK. _Enter_ YORK _with trumpet and many_ Soldiers. _York._ Are not the speedy scouts return’d again, [adc001] That dogg’d the mighty army of the Dauphin? _Mess_. They are return’d, my lord, and give it out That he is march’d to Bourdeaux with his power, To fight with Talbot: as he march’d along, [adc005] By your espials were discovered Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led, Which join’d with him and made their march for Bourdeaux. _York._ A plague upon that villain Somerset, That thus delays my promised supply ·adc010· Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege! [adc011] Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid, And I am lowted by a traitor villain [adc013] And cannot help the noble chevalier: God comfort him in this necessity! ·adc015· If he miscarry, farewell wars in France. [adc016] _Enter_ Sir WILLIAM LUCY. _Lucy._ Thou princely leader of our English strength, [adc017] 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 [adc020] And hemm’d about with grim destruction: To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, York! Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England’s honour. _York._ O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot’s place! ·adc025· 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 succour to the distress’d lord! [adc030] _York._ 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. [adc033] _Lucy._ Then God take mercy on brave Talbot’s soul; And on his son young John, who two hours since ·adc035· I met in travel toward his warlike father! [adc036] This seven years did not Talbot see his son; And now they meet where both their lives are done. _York._ Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have To bid his young son welcome to his grave? [adc040] Away! vexation almost stops my breath, That sunder’d friends greet in the hour of death. [adc042] Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can, But curse the cause I cannot aid the man. Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away, ·adc045· ’Long all of Somerset and his delay. [adc046] [_Exit, with his soldiers._ _Lucy._ Thus, while the vulture of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss [adc049] The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror, [adc050] That ever living man of memory, Henry the Fifth: whiles they each other cross, [adc052] Lives, honours, lands and all hurry to loss. [adc053] [_Exit._
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.