SCENE V. An alarm: Excurfions. Bedford brought in, fick, in a chair. Enter Talbot and Burgundy, without; within, Joan la Pucelle, Dauphin, Bastard, and Alanfon, on the walls. Puce!. Good morrow, gallants, want ye corn for bread? I think, the Duke of Burgundy will fast, 'Twas full of darnel; do you like the taste? Burg. Scoff on, vile fiend, and fhameless courtizan! I truft, ere long to choak thee with thine own, And make thee curfe the harvest of that corn. Dau. Your Grace may ftarve, perhaps, before that time. Bed. Oh let not words, but deeds, revenge this treafon! Pucel. What will you do, good grey-beard? break a lance, And run a tilt at death within a chair? Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all defpight, Incompafs'd with thy luftful paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, Pucel. Are you fo hot? yet, Pucelle, hold thy Peace; If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. [Talbot and the rest whisper together in council. God fpeed the parliament! who fhall be the fpeaker? Tal. Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the field! Pucel. Belike, your Lordship takes us then for fools, 1 Alarfon Sir T. Hanmer has nier, because Alanfon, not Reigreplaced here, inftead of Reig- nier, appears in the enfuing scene. Το To try if that our own be ours, or no. Tal. Seignior, hang. -Bafe muleteers of France! Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls, And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. Pucel. Captains, away; let's get us from the walls, For Talbot means no goodness by his looks. God be wi' you, my Lord: we came, Sir, but to tell you Burg. My vows are equal partners with thy vows, Bed. Lord Talbot, do not fo difhonour me: Burg. Couragious Bedford, let us now perfuade you, That ftout Pendragon, in his litter fick, Tal. Undaunted fpirit in a dying breast! And And no no more ado, brave Burgundy, [Exit. An Alarm: excurfions. Enter Sir John Faftolffe, and a Captain. Cap. Whither away, Sir John Faftolffe, in fuch hate? Faft. Whither away? to fave myfelf by flight. We are like to have the overthrow again. Cap. What! will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot? Faft. Ay, all the Talbots in the world to fave my life. [Exit. Cap. Cowardly Knight, ill-fortune follow thee! [Exit. Retreat excurfions. Pucelle, Alanfon, and Dauphin fly. Bed. Now, quiet foul, depart when heav'n fhall please, For I have seen our enemies' overthrow, What is the truft or ftrength of foolish man? [Dies, and is carried off in his chair. Within the walls of Roan. An Alarm: Enter Talbot, Burgundy, and the rest. Tal. L OST and recover'd in a day again? Tal. Thanks, gentle Duke. But where is Pucelle now? I think, I think, her old Familiar is afleep. Now where's the Baftard's braves, and Charles his glikes? What, all a-mort? Roan hangs her head for grief; Now we will take fome order in the town, Burg. What wills Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy. [Exeunt. Enter Dauphin, Baftard, Alanfon, and Joan la Pucelle. Pucel. Difmay not, Princes, at this accident, Care is no cure, but rather corrofive, Dau. We have been guided by thee hitherto, N n Pucel. Pucel. Then thus it must be, this doth Joan devife: By fair persuasions mixt with fugar'd words, We will entice the Duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot, and to follow us. Dau. Ay, marry, fweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for Henry's warriors; Nor fhall that Nation boaft it fo with us, But be extirped from our provinces. Alan. For ever fhould they be expuls'd from France, And not have title of an Earldom here. Pucel. Your honours fhall perceive how I will work, To bring this matter to the wifhed end. [Drum beats afar off. Hark, by the found of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. [Here beat an English March. There goes the Talbot with his Colours spread, [Trumpets found a parley. Enter the Duke of Burgundy marching. Dau. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy. man. Burg. What fayft thou, Charles? for I am marching hence. Dau. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words. Puccl. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! Stay, let thy humble hand-maid fpeak to thee. Burg. Speak on, but be not over-tedious. 2 Pucel. |