If I now had him brought into my power. Sul. Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd.

Tal. With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts.

In open market-place produced they me, 40
To be a public spectacle to all:

Here, said they, is the terror of the French,
The scarecrow that affrights our children so.
Then broke I from the officers that led me,
And with my nails digg'd stones out of the
ground,

To huil at the beholders of my shame :
My grisly countenance made others fly;
None durst come near for fear of sudden death.
In iron walls they deem'd me not secure ;
So great fear of my name 'mongst them was
spread,

50

That they supposed I could rend bars of steel,
And spurn in pieces posts of adamant :
Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had,
That walked about me every minute-while;
And if I did but stir out of my bed,
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

Enter the Boy with a linstock.

Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you endured,

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.

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

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 up to him.
Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort;
Thou shalt not die whiles-

91 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

age

10

And from my shoulders crack my arms asub 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

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 rich jewel'd

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 beating 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 term so
20

pure?

Tal. A maid, they say.
Bed.

A maid and be so martial! Bur. Pray God she prove not masculine ere long,

If underneath the standard of the French
She carry armor as she hath begun.

Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with spirits:

God is our fortress, in whose conquering

name

Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.

his grave.

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

Dent. 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 halj unready.

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

Bast. Unready! ay, and glad we 'scaped so well. 40 Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,

R.

70

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

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-
night.

And that hereafter ages may behold
What ruin happen'd in revenge of him,
Within their chiefest temple I'll erect

10

A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd:
Upon the which, that every one may read,
Shall be engraved the sack of Orleans,
The treacherous manner of his mournful death
And what a terror he had been to France.
But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,

I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace,
His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc,
Nor any of his false confederates.
21

Bed. 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the

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.

To know the cause of your abrupt departure. Tal. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,

I go to certify her Talbot's here.

Count.

oner.

Re-enter Porter with keys.

31

If thou be he, then art thou pris

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 piten,
Your roof were not sufficient to contain't.
Count. This is a riddling merchant for the

nonce;

60

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 soldiers. 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.

81

[Exeunt.

Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.

Som. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses,

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, Plan tagenet.