John T. And I!
Oh! give me danger's post!—forget my youth;—
Think the father's honour hangs on the son.
Suf. Seek Warwick's side.
John T. My deeds shall thank thee. Father!
Oh! tarry only till this field I've fought.
We must not meet till I have proved this gift,
Whose motto to the sun I now display,[A] (draws his sword,)
And claim it witness to the truth it speaks.
For my brave sire, old England, and St. George!
[Exit.
[A] Sum Talboti, sur vincere inimicos meos.
Scene VI.—Field of Battle.—Thunder and Lightning.
Warwick.
War. Are earth and heaven again in fury met,
As late on Orleans' fields? The elements
Pour forth their wrath in such tremendous peals,
Such bolts of fiery death illume the sky,
That earthly weapons seem the lesser ill.
Our soldiers falter.—Ho! look to John Talbot!
Ardour like his will lead him into peril.
[Exit.