_York._ Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have To bid his young son welcome to his grave?   [adc040] Away! vexation almost stops my breath, That sunder’d friends greet in the hour of death.   [adc042] Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can, But curse the cause I cannot aid the man. Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away,   ·adc045· ’Long all of Somerset and his delay.   [adc046] [_Exit, with his soldiers._ _Lucy._ Thus, while the vulture of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss   [adc049] The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror,   [adc050] That ever living man of memory, Henry the Fifth: whiles they each other cross,   [adc052] Lives, honours, lands and all hurry to loss.   [adc053] [_Exit._ SCENE IV. _Other plains in Gascony_. _Enter_ SOMERSET, _with his army; a_ Captain _of_ TALBOT’S _with him_. _Som._ It is too late; I cannot send them now:   [add001] This expedition was by York and Talbot Too rashly plotted: all our general force Might with a sally of the very town Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot   ·add005· Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure: York set him on to fight and die in shame, That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name. _Cap._ Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me   ·add010· Set from our o’er-match’d forces forth for aid.   [add011] _Enter_ Sir William Lucy. _Som._ How now, Sir William! whither were you sent?   [add012] _Lucy._ Whither, my lord? from bought and sold Lord Talbot;   [add013] Who, ring’d about with bold adversity, Cries out for noble York and Somerset,   ·add015· To beat assailing death from his weak legions:   [add016] And whiles the honourable captain there   [add017] Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs, And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue,   [add019] You, his false hopes, the trust of England’s honour,   ·add020· Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. Let not your private discord keep away The levied succours that should lend him aid,   [add023] While he, renowned noble gentleman, Yields up his life unto a world of odds:   [add025] Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,   [add026] Alençon, Reignier, compass him about,   [add027] And Talbot perisheth by your default. _Som._ York set him on; York should have sent him aid. _Lucy._ And York as fast upon your grace exclaims;   ·add030· Swearing that you withhold his levied host,   [add031] Collected for this expedition. _Som._ York lies; he might have sent and had the horse: I owe him little duty, and less love; And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.   ·add035· _Lucy._ The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now entrapp’d the noble-minded Talbot: Never to England shall he bear his life; But dies, betray’d to fortune by your strife.