Tal. What chance is this, that suddenly hath

cross'd us?

Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak; How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men? One of thy eyes, and thy cheek's side struck

off!

Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand,
That hath contriv'd this woful tragedy!
In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame;
Henry the fifth he first train'd to the wars:
Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up,
His sword did ne'er leavestriking in the field.
Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? though they speech

doth fail,

One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace?
The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive,
If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!
Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it. --
Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?
Speak unto Talbot; nay, look tip to him,
Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort;
Thou shalt not die, whiles-

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 Nero-like,
Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn:
Wretched shall France be only in my name.

[Thunder heard; afterwards an alarum. 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 gather'd head:

(

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.

Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth

groan!

-

It irks his heart, he cannot be reveng'd. --
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,

And then we'll try what these dastard French

mén dare..

The same. Before one of the gates. Alarum. Skirmishings. TALBOT pursueth the Dauphin, and driveth him in: then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her. Then enter TALEOT.

Tul. Where is my strength, my yalour, and

my force?

Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them: A woman, clad in armour, chaseth them.

Enter LA PUCELLE.

Here, here she comes:

I'll have a bout with

thee;

Devil, or devil's dam; I'll conjure thee:

Blood

Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch, And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st. Puc. Come, come, 'tis only I that must dis

grace thee. [They fight.

Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail? My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage, And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder, But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.

Puc. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet

come:

I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.
Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-starved men;
Help Salisbury to make his testament:
This day is ours, as many more shall be.

[PUCELLE enters the town, with Soldiers.

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

I know not where I am, nor what I do:
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 timorous from the wolf,
Or horse, or oxen, from the leopard,

As you fly from your oft subdued slaves.

VOL.. X.

[Alarum. Another skirmish.

10

1

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 my head.
[Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt TALBOT
and his forces, &c.

SCENE VI.

The same.

Enter, on the walls, PUCELLE, CHARLES, REIGNIER, ALENÇON, and soldiers.

Puc. Advance our waving colours on the walls; Rescu'd is Orleans from the English wolves:-Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word. Char. Divinest creature, bright Astraea's daughter,

How shall I honour 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.

Reig. Why ring not out the bells 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.
A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear,
Thân 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 Dennis 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.

[Flourish. Exeunt.

Enter to the gates, a French Sergeant, and 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.

1. Sent. Sergeant, you shall. [Exit Sergeant.] Thus are poor servitors.