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Alarum. Excursions. Enter old TALBOT led by a SERVANT.
Alarum. Excursions. Enter old TALBOT led by a SERVANT.
TALBOT
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 valor makes me smile at thee.
5
When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,
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,
10
Tend’ring my ruin and assailed of none,
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
15
His over-mounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
TALBOT
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 valor makes me smile at thee.
5
When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,
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,
10
Tend’ring my ruin and assailed of none,
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
15
His over-mounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
Enter SOLDIERS with JOHN TALBOT, borne.
Enter SOLDIERS with JOHN TALBOT, borne.
SERVINGMAN
O, my dear lord, lo where your son is borne!
SERVINGMAN
O, my dear lord, lo where your son is borne!
TALBOT
Thou antic Death, which laugh’st us here to scorn,
Anon from thy insulting tyranny,
20
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots, wingèd through the lither sky,
In thy despite shall scape mortality.—
O, thou whose wounds become hard-favored Death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!
25
Brave Death by speaking, whither he will or no.
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.—
Poor boy, he smiles, methinks, as who should say
“Had Death been French, then Death had died
today.”—
30
Come, come, and lay him in his father’s arms;
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot’s grave.
TALBOT
Thou antic Death, which laugh’st us here to scorn,
Anon from thy insulting tyranny,
20
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots, wingèd through the lither sky,
In thy despite shall scape mortality.—
O, thou whose wounds become hard-favored Death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!
25
Brave Death by speaking, whither he will or no.
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.—
Poor boy, he smiles, methinks, as who should say
“Had Death been French, then Death had died
today.”—
30
Come, come, and lay him in his father’s arms;
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot’s grave.
Dies.
Dies.
Alarums. SOLDIERS exit.
Alarums. SOLDIERS exit.
Enter CHARLES, ALANSON, BURGUNDY, BASTARD, and PUCELLE, with FORCES.
Enter CHARLES, ALANSON, BURGUNDY, BASTARD, and PUCELLE, with FORCES.
CHARLES
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
35
We should have found a bloody day of this.
CHARLES
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
35
We should have found a bloody day of this.
BASTARD
How the young whelp of Talbot’s, raging wood,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen’s blood!
BASTARD
How the young whelp of Talbot’s, raging wood,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen’s blood!
PUCELLE
Once I encountered him, and thus I said:
“Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid.”
40
But with a proud majestical high scorn
He answered thus: “Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench.”
So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
PUCELLE
Once I encountered him, and thus I said:
“Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid.”
40
But with a proud majestical high scorn
He answered thus: “Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench.”
So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
BURGUNDY
45
Doubtless he would have made a noble knight.
See where he lies inhearsèd in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
BURGUNDY
45
Doubtless he would have made a noble knight.
See where he lies inhearsèd in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
BASTARD
Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,
Whose life was England’s glory, Gallia’s wonder.
BASTARD
Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,
Whose life was England’s glory, Gallia’s wonder.
CHARLES
50
O, no, forbear! For that which we have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
CHARLES
50
O, no, forbear! For that which we have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
Enter LUCY with ATTENDANTS and a FRENCH HERALD.
Enter LUCY with ATTENDANTS and a FRENCH HERALD.
LUCY
Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin’s tent,
To know who hath obtained the glory of the day.
LUCY
Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin’s tent,
To know who hath obtained the glory of the day.
CHARLES
On what submissive message art thou sent?
CHARLES
On what submissive message art thou sent?
LUCY
55
Submission, dauphin? ’Tis a mere French word.
We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta’en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.
LUCY
55
Submission, dauphin? ’Tis a mere French word.
We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta’en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.
CHARLES
For prisoners askst thou? Hell our prison is.
60
But tell me whom thou seek’st.
CHARLES
For prisoners askst thou? Hell our prison is.
60
But tell me whom thou seek’st.
LUCY
But where’s the great Alcides of the field,
Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
Created for his rare success in arms
Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence,
65
Lord Talbot of Goodrich and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of
Sheffield,
The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,
70
Knight of the noble Order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece,
Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
LUCY
But where’s the great Alcides of the field,
Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
Created for his rare success in arms
Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence,
65
Lord Talbot of Goodrich and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of
Sheffield,
The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,
70
Knight of the noble Order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece,
Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
PUCELLE
Here’s a silly stately style indeed.
75
The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
Him that thou magnifi’st with all these titles
Stinking and flyblown lies here at our feet.
PUCELLE
Here’s a silly stately style indeed.
75
The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
Him that thou magnifi’st with all these titles
Stinking and flyblown lies here at our feet.
LUCY
Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen’s only scourge,
80
Your kingdom’s terror and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turned
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but call these dead to life,
It were enough to fright the realm of France.
85
Were but his picture left amongst you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence
And give them burial as beseems their worth.
LUCY
Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen’s only scourge,
80
Your kingdom’s terror and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turned
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but call these dead to life,
It were enough to fright the realm of France.
85
Were but his picture left amongst you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence
And give them burial as beseems their worth.
PUCELLE
I think this upstart is old Talbot’s ghost,
90
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
For God’s sake, let him have him. To keep them here,
They would but stink and putrefy the air.
PUCELLE
I think this upstart is old Talbot’s ghost,
90
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
For God’s sake, let him have him. To keep them here,
They would but stink and putrefy the air.
CHARLES
Go, take their bodies hence.
CHARLES
Go, take their bodies hence.
LUCY
I’ll bear them hence.
95
But from their ashes shall be reared
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
LUCY
I’ll bear them hence.
95
But from their ashes shall be reared
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
CHARLES
So we be rid of them, do with him what thou wilt.
CHARLES
So we be rid of them, do with him what thou wilt.
LUCY , SERVANT, and ATTENDANTS exit, bearing the bodies.
LUCY , SERVANT, and ATTENDANTS exit, bearing the bodies.
 And now to Paris in this conquering vein.
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot’s slain.
 And now to Paris in this conquering vein.
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot’s slain.
They exit.
They exit.

Original Text

Modern Text
Alarum. Excursions. Enter old TALBOT led by a SERVANT.
Alarum. Excursions. Enter old TALBOT led by a SERVANT.
TALBOT
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 valor makes me smile at thee.
5
When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,
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,
10
Tend’ring my ruin and assailed of none,
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
15
His over-mounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
TALBOT
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 valor makes me smile at thee.
5
When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,
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,
10
Tend’ring my ruin and assailed of none,
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
15
His over-mounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
Enter SOLDIERS with JOHN TALBOT, borne.
Enter SOLDIERS with JOHN TALBOT, borne.
SERVINGMAN
O, my dear lord, lo where your son is borne!
SERVINGMAN
O, my dear lord, lo where your son is borne!
TALBOT
Thou antic Death, which laugh’st us here to scorn,
Anon from thy insulting tyranny,
20
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots, wingèd through the lither sky,
In thy despite shall scape mortality.—
O, thou whose wounds become hard-favored Death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!
25
Brave Death by speaking, whither he will or no.
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.—
Poor boy, he smiles, methinks, as who should say
“Had Death been French, then Death had died
today.”—
30
Come, come, and lay him in his father’s arms;
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot’s grave.
TALBOT
Thou antic Death, which laugh’st us here to scorn,
Anon from thy insulting tyranny,
20
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots, wingèd through the lither sky,
In thy despite shall scape mortality.—
O, thou whose wounds become hard-favored Death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!
25
Brave Death by speaking, whither he will or no.
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.—
Poor boy, he smiles, methinks, as who should say
“Had Death been French, then Death had died
today.”—
30
Come, come, and lay him in his father’s arms;
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot’s grave.
Dies.
Dies.
Alarums. SOLDIERS exit.
Alarums. SOLDIERS exit.
Enter CHARLES, ALANSON, BURGUNDY, BASTARD, and PUCELLE, with FORCES.
Enter CHARLES, ALANSON, BURGUNDY, BASTARD, and PUCELLE, with FORCES.
CHARLES
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
35
We should have found a bloody day of this.
CHARLES
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
35
We should have found a bloody day of this.
BASTARD
How the young whelp of Talbot’s, raging wood,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen’s blood!
BASTARD
How the young whelp of Talbot’s, raging wood,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen’s blood!
PUCELLE
Once I encountered him, and thus I said:
“Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid.”
40
But with a proud majestical high scorn
He answered thus: “Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench.”
So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
PUCELLE
Once I encountered him, and thus I said:
“Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid.”
40
But with a proud majestical high scorn
He answered thus: “Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench.”
So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
BURGUNDY
45
Doubtless he would have made a noble knight.
See where he lies inhearsèd in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
BURGUNDY
45
Doubtless he would have made a noble knight.
See where he lies inhearsèd in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
BASTARD
Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,
Whose life was England’s glory, Gallia’s wonder.
BASTARD
Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,
Whose life was England’s glory, Gallia’s wonder.
CHARLES
50
O, no, forbear! For that which we have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
CHARLES
50
O, no, forbear! For that which we have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
Enter LUCY with ATTENDANTS and a FRENCH HERALD.
Enter LUCY with ATTENDANTS and a FRENCH HERALD.
LUCY
Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin’s tent,
To know who hath obtained the glory of the day.
LUCY
Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin’s tent,
To know who hath obtained the glory of the day.
CHARLES
On what submissive message art thou sent?
CHARLES
On what submissive message art thou sent?
LUCY
55
Submission, dauphin? ’Tis a mere French word.
We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta’en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.
LUCY
55
Submission, dauphin? ’Tis a mere French word.
We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta’en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.
CHARLES
For prisoners askst thou? Hell our prison is.
60
But tell me whom thou seek’st.
CHARLES
For prisoners askst thou? Hell our prison is.
60
But tell me whom thou seek’st.
LUCY
But where’s the great Alcides of the field,
Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
Created for his rare success in arms
Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence,
65
Lord Talbot of Goodrich and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of
Sheffield,
The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,
70
Knight of the noble Order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece,
Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
LUCY
But where’s the great Alcides of the field,
Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
Created for his rare success in arms
Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence,
65
Lord Talbot of Goodrich and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of
Sheffield,
The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,
70
Knight of the noble Order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece,
Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
PUCELLE
Here’s a silly stately style indeed.
75
The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
Him that thou magnifi’st with all these titles
Stinking and flyblown lies here at our feet.
PUCELLE
Here’s a silly stately style indeed.
75
The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
Him that thou magnifi’st with all these titles
Stinking and flyblown lies here at our feet.
LUCY
Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen’s only scourge,
80
Your kingdom’s terror and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turned
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but call these dead to life,
It were enough to fright the realm of France.
85
Were but his picture left amongst you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence
And give them burial as beseems their worth.
LUCY
Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen’s only scourge,
80
Your kingdom’s terror and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turned
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but call these dead to life,
It were enough to fright the realm of France.
85
Were but his picture left amongst you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence
And give them burial as beseems their worth.
PUCELLE
I think this upstart is old Talbot’s ghost,
90
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
For God’s sake, let him have him. To keep them here,
They would but stink and putrefy the air.
PUCELLE
I think this upstart is old Talbot’s ghost,
90
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
For God’s sake, let him have him. To keep them here,
They would but stink and putrefy the air.
CHARLES
Go, take their bodies hence.
CHARLES
Go, take their bodies hence.
LUCY
I’ll bear them hence.
95
But from their ashes shall be reared
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
LUCY
I’ll bear them hence.
95
But from their ashes shall be reared
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
CHARLES
So we be rid of them, do with him what thou wilt.
CHARLES
So we be rid of them, do with him what thou wilt.
LUCY , SERVANT, and ATTENDANTS exit, bearing the bodies.
LUCY , SERVANT, and ATTENDANTS exit, bearing the bodies.
 And now to Paris in this conquering vein.
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot’s slain.
 And now to Paris in this conquering vein.
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot’s slain.
They exit.
They exit.
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