Enter Talbot and John his son.
TALBOT.
O young John Talbot, I did send for thee
To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
That Talbot’s name might be in thee revived
When sapless age and weak unable limbs
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But—O malignant and ill-boding stars!—
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger.
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse,
And I’ll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight. Come, dally not, be gone.
JOHN TALBOT.
Is my name Talbot? And am I your son?
And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,
To make a bastard and a slave of me!
The world will say, he is not Talbot’s blood,
That basely fled when noble Talbot stood.
TALBOT.
Fly, to revenge my death if I be slain.
JOHN TALBOT.
He that flies so will ne’er return again.
TALBOT.
If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
JOHN TALBOT.
Then let me stay and, father, do you fly.
Your loss is great, so your regard should be;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done.
You fled for vantage, everyone will swear;
But if I bow, they’ll say it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay
If the first hour I shrink and run away.
Here on my knee I beg mortality,
Rather than life preserved with infamy.
TALBOT.
Shall all thy mother’s hopes lie in one tomb?
JOHN TALBOT.
Ay, rather than I’ll shame my mother’s womb.
TALBOT.
Upon my blessing, I command thee go.