The scene changes to an open country skirted with trees. During the
music soldiers are seen retreating hastily across the background.

TALBOT, leaning on FASTOLFE, and accompanied by soldiers. Soon
after, LIONEL.

TALBOT
Here lay me down beneath the trees, and then
Betake you back, with speed, unto the fight;
I need no aid to die.

FASTOLFE
                        Oh, woful day!
[LIONEL enters.]
Behold what sign awaits you, Lionel!
Here lies our general wounded unto death.

LIONEL
Now, God forbid! My noble lord, arise!
No moment this to falter and to sink.
Yield not to death. By your all-powerful will
Command your ebbing spirit still to live.

TALBOT
In vain! The day of destiny is come,
Which will o'erthrow the English power in France.
In desperate combat I have vainly risked
The remnant of our force to ward it off.
Struck by the thunderbolt I prostrate lie,
Never to rise again. Rheims now is lost,
Hasten to succor Paris!
LIONEL
Paris is with the Dauphin reconciled;
A courier even now has brought the news.

TALBOT (tearing off his bandages)
Then freely flow, ye currents of my blood,
For Talbot now is weary of the sun!

LIONEL
I may no longer tarry: Fastolfe, haste!
Convey our leader to a place of safety.
No longer now can we maintain this post;
Our flying troops disperse on every side,
On, with resistless might, the maiden comes.

TALBOT
Folly, thou conquerest, and I must yield!
Against stupidity the very gods.
Themselves contend in vain. Exalted reason,
Resplendent daughter of the head divine,
Wise foundress of the system of the world,
Guide of the stars, who art thou then if thou,
Bound to the tail of folly's uncurbed steed,
Must, vainly shrieking with the drunken crowd,
Eyes open, plunge down headlong in the abyss.
Accursed, who striveth after noble ends,
And with deliberate wisdom forms his plans!
To the fool-king belongs the world.
LIONEL
                        My lord,
But for a few brief moments can you live—
Think of your Maker!

TALBOT
                Had we, like brave men,
Been vanquished by the brave, we might, indeed,
Console ourselves that 'twas the common lot;
For fickle fortune aye revolves her wheel.
But to be baffled by such juggling arts!
Deserved our earnest and laborious life
Not a more earnest issue?

LIONEL (extends his hand to him)
                        Fare you well!
The debt of honest tears I will discharge
After the battle—if I then survive.
Now Fate doth call me hence, where on the field
Her web she waveth, and dispenseth doom.
We in another world shall meet again;
For our long friendship, this a brief farewell.

[Exit.]

TALBOT
Soon is the struggle past, and to the earth,
To the eternal sun, I render back
These atoms, joined in me for pain and pleasure.
And of the mighty Talbot, who the world
Filled with his martial glory, there remains
Naught save a modicum of senseless dust.
Such is the end of man—the only spoil
We carry with us from life's battle-field,
Is but an insight into nothingness,
And utter scorn of all which once appeared
To us exalted and desirable.