Mes. Thus while the Vulture of sedition,
Feedes in the bosome of such great Commanders,
Sleeping neglection doth betray to losse:
The Conquest of our scarse-cold Conqueror,
That euer-liuing man of Memorie,
Henrie the fift: Whiles they each other crosse,
Liues, Honours, Lands, and all, hurrie to losse.
Enter Somerset with his Armie.
Som. It is too late, I cannot send them now:
This expedition was by Yorke and Talbot,
Too rashly plotted. All our generall force,
Might with a sally of the very Towne
Be buckled with: the ouer-daring Talbot
Hath sullied all his glosse of former Honor
By this vnheedfull, desperate, wilde aduenture:
Yorke set him on to fight, and dye in shame,
That Talbot dead, great Yorke might beare the name
Cap. Heere is Sir William Lucie, who with me
Set from our ore-matcht forces forth for ayde
Som. How now Sir William, whether were you sent?
Lu. Whether my Lord, from bought & sold L[ord]. Talbot,
Who ring'd about with bold aduersitie,
Cries out for noble Yorke and Somerset,
To beate assayling death from his weake Regions,
And whiles the honourable Captaine there
Drops bloody swet from his warre-wearied limbes,
And in aduantage lingring lookes for rescue,
You his false hopes, the trust of Englands honor,
Keepe off aloofe with worthlesse emulation:
Let not your priuate discord keepe away
The leuied succours that should lend him ayde,
While he renowned Noble Gentleman
Yeeld vp his life vnto a world of oddes.
Orleance the Bastard, Charles, Burgundie,
Alanson, Reignard, compasse him about,
And Talbot perisheth by your default
Som. Yorke set him on, Yorke should haue sent him
ayde
Luc. And Yorke as fast vpon your Grace exclaimes,
Swearing that you with-hold his leuied hoast,
Collected for this expidition
Som. York lyes: He might haue sent, & had the Horse:
I owe him little Dutie, and lesse Loue,
And take foule scorne to fawne on him by sending
Lu. The fraud of England, not the force of France,
Hath now intrapt the Noble-minded Talbot:
Neuer to England shall he beare his life,
But dies betraid to fortune by your strife
Som. Come go, I will dispatch the Horsemen strait:
Within sixe houres, they will be at his ayde
Lu. Too late comes rescue, he is tane or slaine,
For flye he could not, if he would haue fled:
And flye would Talbot neuer though he might