Scene VII.

Enter Charles; Burgundy; Dunois; Du Chatel; and Soldiers.

Burgun. The trench is storm'd.

Dunois.The victory is ours.

Charles [observing Talbot].
Ha! who is this that to the light of day
Is bidding his constrained and sad farewell?
His bearing speaks no common man: go, haste,
Assist him, if assistance yet avail.

[Soldiers from the Dauphin's suite step forward.

Fastolf. Back! Keep away! Approach not the Departing,
Whom in life ye never wish'd too near you.

Burgun. What do I see? Lord Talbot in his blood!

[He goes towards him. Talbot gazes fixedly at him, and dies.

Fastolf. Off, Burgundy! With th' aspect of a traitor
Poison not the last look of a hero.

Dunois. Dreaded Talbot! stern, unconquerable!
Dost thou content thee with a space so narrow,
And the wide domains of France once could not
Stay the striving of thy giant spirit?—
Now for the first time, Sire, I call you King:
The crown but totter'd on your head, so long
As in this body dwelt a soul.

Charles [after looking at the dead in silence]. It was
A higher hand that conquer'd him, not we.
Here on the soil of France he sleeps, as does
A hero on the shield he would not quit.
Bring him away.[Soldiers lift the corpse, and carry it off.
And peace be with his dust!
A fair memorial shall arise to him
I' th' midst of France: here, where the hero's course
And life were finished, let his bones repose.
Thus far no other foe has e'er advanced.
His epitaph shall be the place he fell on.