Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter.
Summon their general unto the wall.
Trumpet sounds. Enter General and others aloft.
English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,
Servant in arms to Harry King of England;
And thus he would: Open your city gates,
Be humble to us, call my sovereign yours,
And do him homage as obedient subjects,
And I’ll withdraw me and my bloody power.
But if you frown upon this proffer’d peace,
You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
Lean Famine, quartering Steel, and climbing Fire,
Who in a moment even with the earth
Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers,
If you forsake the offer of their love.
Go to the gates and summon their general. Let him hear what I have to say. I am John Talbot, servant in arms to King Henry of England. Here is my offer: open your gates, submit to your rightful king, and I will withdraw my forces. But if you refuse this mercy, I will bring three attendants who will reduce your city to ash and ruin—Starvation, Steel, and Flame. They move swiftly, and nothing can withstand them.
Get me their general at the wall. Tell him John Talbot is out here with King Henry's army. Here's the deal: open your gates, bow to the king, and we leave you alone. Say no, and I send in hunger, swords, and fire. Your walls won't last an hour against all three.
surrender now or face famine steel and fire you have one choice make it the smart one
Thou ominous and fearful owl of death,
Our nation’s terror and their bloody scourge!
The period of thy tyranny approacheth.
On us thou canst not enter but by death;
For, I protest, we are well fortified
And strong enough to issue out and fight.
If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed,
Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee.
On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch’d
To wall thee from the liberty of flight;
And no way canst thou turn thee for redress
But Death doth front thee with apparent spoil,
And pale Destruction meets thee in the face.
Ten thousand French have ta’en the sacrament
To rive their dangerous artillery
Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.
Lo, there thou stand’st, a breathing valiant man
Of an invincible unconquer’d spirit.
This is the latest glory of thy praise
That I, thy enemy, due thee withal;
For ere the glass, that now begins to run,
Finish the process of his sandy hour,
These eyes, that see thee now well coloured,
Shall see thee wither’d, bloody, pale, and dead.
You fearful harbinger of death, terror to our nation and our bloody scourge—your tyranny is about to end. You will not enter our gates except through death, for we are well fortified and strong enough to fight. If you retreat, the Dauphin waits to ambush you. On both sides, squadrons are positioned to trap you. There is no escape, no mercy. Death waits for you—pale Destruction faces you on all sides. Ten thousand French have sworn an oath to turn their weapons on no Christian but you. There you stand—a breathing, valiant man, unconquered. But this is the final glory I can offer you as your enemy. Before that hourglass finishes its sand, you will be pale, bloody, dead. These eyes that see you now full of life will witness your end.
You're the terror everyone's heard about, but your time is up. You can't get past us without dying, and we're ready to fight. The Dauphin's waiting if you try to run—armies on both sides, nowhere to go. Death's right in front of you, no matter which way you turn. Ten thousand French swore to put their weapons only on you. You're an incredible soldier, I'll give you that. But in the next hour—and I mean the next hour—you'll be dead. I'm watching, and I'm going to see it happen.
you're surrounded no escape no retreat we have ten thousand within the hour you're finished
The French general's speech is unusual: he's not gloating but almost respectfully eulogizing Talbot while he's still alive. 'This is the latest glory of thy praise / That I, thy enemy, due thee withal' — he's giving Talbot the honor of an enemy's acknowledgment. The structure of the speech moves from tactical facts (you're surrounded) to prophecy ('within the hour') to a kind of epitaph. It's a funeral oration delivered while the subject is still breathing.
He fables not; I hear the enemy.
Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.
O, negligent and heedless discipline!
How are we park’d and bounded in a pale,
A little herd of England’s timorous deer,
Mazed with a yelping kennel of French curs!
If we be English deer, be then in blood;
Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch,
But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags,
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel
And make the cowards stand aloof at bay.
Sell every man his life as dear as mine,
And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.
God and Saint George, Talbot and England’s right,
Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight!
He speaks the truth—I hear them coming. Send out cavalry to scout their wings. Look at us—penned in like a small herd of frightened English deer, surrounded by a pack of howling French dogs. But if we are English deer, then let us fight like it. Not like cowering prey that collapses at a single bite, but like desperate stags turning on our attackers with steel for horns, making the cowards fall back in fear. Sell your life as dearly as I will sell mine, and we will prove to them that English deer have teeth and claws. God and Saint George stand with Talbot and England's cause—let our colors fly victoriously through this deadly fight.
He's right—they're here. Get some riders out to check the sides. We're trapped like deer in a park, surrounded by a pack of snarling dogs. But if we're going down, we fight like stags, not prey. We turn around, we bare our teeth, we make them scared of us. Every man makes them pay the highest price for his life—and they'll learn that English deer can kill. God and Saint George are with us, and England's watching. Let's take them down.
trapped rings of enemy but we fight like cornered stags not hunted prey make them pay for every inch
The Reckoning
This scene is pure martial tragedy. Talbot is the greatest general in France, but he's alone and surrounded. The French general delivers a kind of eulogy in advance: 'This is your last glory.' The prophecy turns out to be accurate — Talbot will die at Bordeaux, though not in this scene. What's heartbreaking is that Talbot's heroic speech ('Sell every man his life as dear as mine') is magnificent but doomed. He knows he's outmaneuvered. But he won't yield. The code of honor demands that he fight, even unto death.
If this happened today…
A legendary commander besieges a town, calls for surrender, and is told that he's surrounded by three armies and will be dead within the hour. He realizes the enemy is right. But he rallies his outnumbered troops: 'We fight like trapped animals, not hunted prey. We'll sell our lives dearly.' It's the speech of a man choosing death with honor over survival with shame.