:
We can hold this post few instants longer,
The coward knaves are giving way on all sides,
Irresistible the Witch is pressing on.

TALBOT. Madness, thou conquerest, and I must yield:
Stupidity can baffle the very gods.
High Reason, radiant Daughter of God's Head,
Wise Foundress of the system of the Universe,
Conductress of the stars, who art thou, then,
If, tied to th' tail o' th' wild horse Superstition,
Thou must plunge, eyes open, vainly shrieking,
Sheer down with that drunk Beast to the Abyss?
Cursed who sets his life upon the great
And dignified; and with forecasting spirit
Forms wise projects! The Fool-king rules this world.

LIONEL. O, Death is near you! Think of your Creator!

TALBOT. Had we as brave men been defeated
By brave men, we might have consoled ourselves
With common thoughts of Fortune's fickleness:
But that a sorry farce should be our ruin!--
Did our earnest toilsome struggle merit
No graver end than this?

LIONEL [_grasps his hand_]. Talbot, farewell!
The meed of bitter tears I'll duly pay you,
When the fight is done, should I outlive it.
Now Fate calls me to the field, where yet
She wav'ring sits, and shakes her doubtful urn.
Farewell! we meet beyond the unseen shore.
Brief parting for long friendship! God be with you! [_Exit._

TALBOT. Soon it is over, and to th' Earth I render,
To the everlasting Sun, the atoms,
Which for pain and pleasure join'd to form me;
And of the mighty Talbot, whose renown
Once fill'd the world, remains nought but a handful
Of light dust. Thus man comes to his end;
And our one conquest in this fight of life
Is the conviction of life's nothingness,
And deep disdain of all that sorry stuff
We once thought lofty and desirable.

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.