60

But we will be revenged sufficiently.
Now it is supper-time in Orleans:
Here, through this grate, I count each one
And view the Frenchmen how they fortify:
Let us look in; the sight will much delight
thee.

Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glansdale,

Let me have your express opinions

Where is best place to make our battery next. Gar. I think, at the north gate; for there stand lords.

Glan. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge.

Tal. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd,

Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.

[Here they shoot. Salisbury and Gargrave

He beckons with his hand and smiles on me, As who should say 'When I am dead and gone,

Remember to avenge me on the French.'
Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero,
Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn:
Wretched shall France be only in my name.
[Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens.
What stir is this? what tumult's in the
heavens?

Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, my lord, the French have gathered head: 100 The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd, A holy prophetess new risen up,

Is come with a great power to raise the siege.
[Here Salisbury lifteth himself up and groans.
Tal. Hear, hear how dying Salisbury
doth groan!

It irks his heart he cannot be revenged.
Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you:
Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish,
Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's
heels,

And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.
Convey me Salisbury into his tent,

110

And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare. [Alarum. Exeunt. SCENE V. The same. Here an alarum again: and TALBOT pursueth the DAUPHIN, and driveth him: then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her, and exit after them: then reenter TALBOT.

Tal. Where is my strength, my valor, and my force?

Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them;
A woman clad in armor chaseth them.
Re-enter LA PUCELLE.

Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee;

Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee:
Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch,
And straightway give thy soul to him thou
servest.

Puc. Come, come, 'tis only I that must dis-
grace thee.
[Here they fight.
Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to pre-
vail ?

My breast I'll burst with straining of my cour

80

up,

His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field. Yet livest thou, Salisbury? though thy speech

age

doth fail,

10 And from my shoulders crack my arms asun der.

Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel;

I know not where I am, nor what I do ; 20 A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal, Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists:

So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench

Are from their hives and houses driven away.
They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs;
Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.
[A short alarum.
Hark, countrymen ! either renew the fight,
Or tear the lions out of England's coat;
Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead:
Sheep run not half so treacherous from the
wolf,

Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.

30

[Alarum. Here another skirmish.
It will not be retire into your trenches:
You all consented unto Salisbury's death,
For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans,

In spite of us or aught that we could do.
O, would I were to die with Salisbury!
The shame hereof will make me hide iny head.
[Exit Talbot. Alarum; retreat; flourish.

SCENE VI. The same.

Enter, on the walls, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, REIGNIER, ALENÇON, and Soldiers.

Puc. Advance our waving colors on the walls;

Rescued is Orleans from the English:
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.
Char. Divinest creature, Astræa's daughter,
How shall I honor thee for this success ?
Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens
That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the
next.

France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess !
Recover'd is the town of Orleans:

More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state. 10 Reig. Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the town?

Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires

And feast and banquet in the open streets,
To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.
Alen. All France will be replete with mirth
and joy.

When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.

Char. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day

is won;

For which I will divide my crown with her,
And all the priests and friars in my realm
Shall in procession sing her endless praise. 20
A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear
Than Rhodope's or Memphis' ever was:
In memory of her when she is dead,
Her ashes, in an urn more precious
Than the rich-jewel'd coffer of Darius,
Transported shall be at high festivals
Before the kings and queens of France.
No longer on Saint Denis will we cry,
But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint.
Come in, and let us banquet royally,
After this golden day of victory.

ACT II.

30

[Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE I. Before Orleans.

Enter a Sergeant of a band with two Sentinels.
Serg. Sirs, take your places and be vigilant:
If any noise or soldier you perceive
Near to the walls, by some apparent sign
Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.
First Sent. Sergeant, you shall. [Exit
Sergeant.] Thus are poor servitors,
When others sleep upon their quiet beds,
Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain and
cold.

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and forces, with scaling-ladders, their drums beat ing a dead march.

Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,

By whose approach the regions of Artois,
Wallon and Picardy are friends to us,
This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
Having all day caroused and banqueted :
Embrace we then this opportunity
As fitting best to quittance their deceit
Contrived by art and baleful sorcery.

10

Bed. Coward of France! how much he wrongs his fame,

Despairing of his own arm's fortitude,
To join with witches and the help of hell!
Bur. Traitors have never other company.
But what's that Pucelle whom they termi so

his grave.

Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right
Of English Henry, shall this night appear
How much in duty I am bound to both.

Sent. Arm! arm! the enemy doth make assault !

[Cry: St. George,' 'A Talbot.' The French leap over the walls in their shirts. Enter, several ways, the BASTARD of Orleans, ALENÇON, and REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready.

Alen. How now, my lords! what, all unready so?

Bast. Unready! ay, and glad we 'scaped so well. 40

Reig. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,

Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors.
Alen. Of all exploits since first I follow'd

I was employ'd in passing to and fro, About relieving of the sentinels:

70

Then how or which way should they first break in ? [case,

Puc. Question, my lords, no further of the How or which way: 'tis sure they found some place [made. But weakly guarded, where the breach was And now there rests no other shift but this; To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispersed,

And lay new platforms to endamage them. Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying 'A Talbot! a Talbot!' They fly, leaving their clothes behind.

Sold. I'll be so bold to take what they have left. The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword; For I have loaden me with many spoils, Using no other weapon but his name.

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[Exit.

SCENE II. Orleans. Within the town. Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain, and others.

Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled,

Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit. [Retreat sounded.

Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury, And here advance it in the market-place, The middle centre of this cursed town. Now have I paid my vow unto his soul; For every drop of blood was drawn from him, There hath at least five Frenchmen died to

wars

Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport,
When ladies crave to be encounter'd with.
You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.
Tal. Ne'er trust me then; for when a
world of men

Could not prevail with all their oratory,
Yet hath a woman's kindness over-ruled: 50
And therefore tell her I return great thanks,
And in submission will attend on her.
Will not your honors bear me company?

Bed. No, truly; it is more than manners will:

And I have heard it said, unbidden guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone.

Tal. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy,

I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. Come hither, captain. [Whispers.] You perceive my mind?

Capt. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. [Exeunt. 60

SCENE III. Auvergne. The COUNTESS'S

castle.

shadow

Whereon to practise your severity.
Count. Why, art not thou the man?
Tal.
I am indeed.
Count. Then have I substance too.
Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself; 50
You are deceived, my substance is not here;
For what you see is but the smallest part
And least proportion of humanity :

I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here,
It is of such a spacious lofty pitch,
Your roof were not sufficient to contain't.
Count. This is a riddling merchant for the
nonce;

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He will be here, and yet he is not here : How can these contrarieties agree? Tal. That will I show you presently. [Winds his horn. Drums strike up: a peal of ordnance. Enter soldier 8. How say you, madam ? are you now persuaded That Talbot is but shadow of himself? These are his substance, sinews, arms and strength,

With which he yoketh your rebellious necks. Razeth your cities and subverts your towns And in a moment makes them desolate.

Count. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse :

I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited And more than may be gather'd by thy shape. Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath; 70 For I am sorry that with reverence

I did not entertain thee as thou art.

Tal. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconstrue

The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake
The outward composition of his body.
What you have done hath not offended me;
Nor other satisfaction do I crave,

But only, with your patience, that we may Taste of your wine and see what cates you have;

For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well. Count. With all my heart, and think me honored

To feast so great a warrior in my house.

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[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. London. The Temple-garden. Enter the EARLS OF SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK; RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and another Lawyer.

Plan. Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence?

Dare no man answer in a case of truth? Suf. Within the Temple-hall we were too loud;

The garden here is more convenient.

Plan. Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth;

Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error?
Suf. Faith, I have been a truant in the law,
And never yet could frame my will to it;
And therefore frame the law unto my will.

Som. Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us.

10 War. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch;

Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth;

Between two blades, which bears the better

temper:

feit our roses;

For pale they look with fear, as witnessing The truth on our side.

That shall maintain what I have said is true, Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand,

I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.