The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (214 page)

[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, smear'd with captivity,

Young Talbot's valor makes me smile at thee:

When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,

His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,

And, like a hungry lion, did commence

Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience;

But when my angry guardant stood alone,

Tendering my ruin and assail'd of none,

Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart

Suddenly made him from my side to start

Into the clustering battle of the French;

And in that sea of blood my boy did drench

His over-mounting spirit, and there died,

My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Where is my other life? I have lost mine;

oh where is young Talbot? Where is brave John?

Triumphant death, who has me in your grasp,

young Talbot's bravery makes me smile at you:

when he saw me drop down onto my knees,

he waved his bloody sword over me,

and, like a hungry lion, began

great deeds of rage and stern defiance.

But when my angry protector stood alone,

taking care of my downfall and attacked by none,

wild eyed anger and a great rage in his heart

made him suddenly run from my side

into the gathering group of French soldiers,

and in that sea of blood my boy drowned

his overwhelming spirit, and there he died,

my Icarus, my offspring, in his pride.

SERVANT.

O my dear lord, lo where your son is borne!

O my dear lord, look, they are carrying your son!

[Enter soldiers, with the body of young Talbot.]

TALBOT.

Thou antic Death, which laugh'st us here to scorn,

Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,

Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,

In thy despite shall 'scape mortality.

O thou, whose wounds become hard-favor'd death,

Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!

Brave death by speaking, whether 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 to-day.

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.

You jester death, who mocks us with his laughter,

soon, two Talbots shall fly through the yielding sky,

joined together forever, flying away from your insulting tyranny,

escaping mortality in spite of you.

Oh you, whose wounds are certainly mortal,

speak to your father before you stop breathing!

Out face death by speaking, whether he wants you to or not;

imagine he's a Frenchman, and your enemy.

Poor boy! He smiles, I think, as if he's saying,

if death had been French, then death would have died today. Come, come and put him in his father's arms:

my spirit can no longer tolerate this misery.

Soldiers, farewell! I have everything I want,

now that my old arms make a grave for young John Talbot.

[Dies.]

[Enter Charles, Alencon, Burgundy, Bastard,

La Pucelle, and forces.]

CHARLES.

Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,

We should have found a bloody day of this.

If York and Somerset had come to the rescue,

we should have had a bloody time of it.

BASTARD.

How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-wood,

Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!

How that young puppy of Talbot's, raging mad,

covered his little sword with the blood of Frenchmen.

PUCELLE.

Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said:

'Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid.'

But, with a proud majestical high scorn,

He answer'd 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.

I came across him once, and I said to him,

“You virgin youth, be beaten by a virgin."

But, with a proud majestic haughty arrogance,

he answered me thus: “Young Talbot wasn't born

to be the victim of a lower class slut."

So, rushing into the heart of the French forces,

he left me proudly, as an unworthy opponent.

BURGUNDY.

Doubtless he would have made a noble knight:

See, where he lies inhearsed in the arms

Of the most bloody nurser of his harms!

No doubt he would have made a noble knight:

look, where he is lying dead in the arms

of the one who caused all this bloodshed!

BASTARD.

Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,

Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.

Hack them to pieces, tear their bones apart,

their life was the glory of England, the amazement of France.

CHARLES.

O, no, forbear! for that which we have fled

During the life, let us not wrong it dead.

Oh no, hold off! Let's not insult when dead

what we fled in life.

[Enter Sir William Lucy, attended; Herald of the French

preceding.]

LUCY.

Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,

To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.

Herald, take me to the tent of the Dauphin,

to find out what has happened today.

CHARLES.

On what submissive message art thou sent?

What humble message have you been sent with?

LUCY.

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.

Humble, Dauphin! That's just a French word;

we English warriors don't know what it means.

I have come to ask what prisoners you have captured,

and to count the bodies of the dead.

CHARLES.

For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison is.

But tell me whom thou seek'st.

You're asking for prisoners? We send our prisoners to hell.

But tell me who you are looking for.

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;

Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,

Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of Alton,

Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield,

The thrice-victorious Lord of Falconbridge;

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?

I want to know where the great Hercules of the battlefield is,

Brave Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,

ennobled for his great success in battle,

Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence;

Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,

Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of Alton,

Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield,

The thrice-victorious Lord of Falconbridge;

Knight of the noble order of Saint George,

Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece;

Great marshal to Henry the Sixth

in all his wars within the great realm of France?

PUCELLE.

Here's a silly stately style indeed!

The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,

Writes not so tedious a style as this.

Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles

Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet.

Here's a stupid stately way of talking!

The Turk, who has fifty two kingdoms,

doesn't write in such a tedious style as this.

The person that you enlarge with all those titles

is lying here stinking and covered in flies at our feet.

LUCY.

Is Talbot slain, the Frenchman's only scourge,

Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?

O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,

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:

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.

Has Talbot been killed, the great punisher of the French,

the terror of your kingdom and your black nemesis?

Oh, I wish my eyeballs would turn into bullets,

so in my anger I could shoot them in your faces!

Oh, if I could only call these dead back to life!

It would be enough to terrify the country of France

if we just left his picture amongst you,

it would confuse the most arrogant of you.

Give me their bodies, so I can take them away

and give them the burial they deserve.

PUCELLE.

I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,

He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit,

For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep them here,

They would but stink, and putrify the air.

I think this upstart is the ghost of old Talbot,

he has such a bossy arrogant way of speaking.

For God's sake, let him take them; if we keep them here

they will just stink and spread infection.

CHARLES.

Go, take their bodies hence.

Go, take their bodies away.

LUCY.

I 'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall be

rear'd

A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.

I'll take them away; but a Phoenix shall rise from their ashes

that will terrify all of France.

CHARLES.

So we be rid of them, do with 'em what thou wilt.

And now to Paris, in this conquering vein:

All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.

As long as we are rid of them, do what you want with them.

And now we shall go to Paris, to continue our conquest:

we shall have everything, now that bloody Talbot is dead.

[Exeunt.]