GLANSDALE.
And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge.
TALBOT.
For aught I see, this city must be famish’d,
Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.
Here they shoot, and Salisbury and Gargrave fall down.
SALISBURY.
O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!
GARGRAVE.
O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man!
TALBOT.
What chance is this that suddenly hath cross’d us?
Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak!
How far’st thou, mirror of all martial men?
One of thy eyes and thy cheek’s side struck off!
Accursed tower, accursed fatal hand
That hath contrived this woeful tragedy!
In thirteen battles Salisbury o’ercame;
Henry the Fifth he first train’d to the wars;
Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up,
His sword did ne’er leave striking in the field.
Yet liv’st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail,
One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace.
The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive,
If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!
Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?
Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.
Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.
[Exeunt some with the body of Gargrave.]
Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort,
Thou shalt not die whiles—
He beckons with his hand and smiles on me,
As who should say “When I am dead and gone,
Remember to avenge me on the French.”
Plantagenet, I will; and, like thee, Nero,
Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn.
Wretched shall France be only in thy name.
[Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens.]
What stir is this? What tumult’s in the heavens?
Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?