Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The First Part of King Henry the Sixth/Act 4 Scene 6
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Alarum: Excursions, wherein Talbots Sonne
is hemm'd about, and Talbot
rescues him.
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.
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.
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 frō 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.
When frō 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.
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,
Exit.And commendable prou'd, let's dye in pride.
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,
Exit.And commendable prou'd, let's dye in pride.