To hurl at the beholders of my shame. In iron walls they deem'd me not secure; That they suppos'd, I could rend bars of steel, [one, But we will be reveng'd sufficiently. Glan. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge. ish'd, Is come with a great power to raise the siege. [SALISBURY groans. Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan! It irks his heart, he cannot be reveng'd.- And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.- [Exeunt, bearing out the Bodies. SCENE V.-The same-Before one of the Gates. Alarum. Skirmishings. TALBOT pursueth the DAUPHIN, and driveth him in: then enter JOAN LA PECELLE, driving Englishmen before her. Then enter TALBOT. Tal. Where is my strength, my valour, 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: thee; -I'll have a bout with Tal. For aught I see, this city must be fam-Devil, or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee: Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. [Shot from the Town. SALISBURY and Sir THO. GARGRAVE fall. Sal. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners! Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, man! woeful 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, up, His sword did ne'er leave striking in the Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? though thy speech doth fail, One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace: serv'st. Puc. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee;' [They fight. Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to pre vail? [age, My breast I'll burst with straining of my courAnd from my shoulders crack my arms asunBut I will chastise this high-minded strumpet. der, Puc. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come: I must go victual Orleans forthwith. wheel; [PUCELLE enters the Town, with Soldiers. Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's 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 [stench, So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome Are from their hives, and houses, driven away. They call'd us, for our fierceness, English lists: dogs; Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me; [Thunder heard; afterwards an Alarum. What stir is this? What tumult's in the vens? Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise? Enter a MESSENGER. Mess. My lord, my lord, the French have gather'd head: [join'd,The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle A holy prophetess, new risen up,— For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.- In spite of us, or aught that we could do. The shame hereof will make me hide my head. | Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, [Alurum. Retreat. Exeurt TALBOT and his To join with witches, and the help of hell. Forces, &c. Bur. Traitors have never other company.-But what's that Pucelle, whom they term so pure? 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 Astræa's daughter, How shall I honour thee for this success? For which, I will divide my crown with her : ACT II. [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE I.-The same. Enter to the Gutes, a French SERGEANT, and tico 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 (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, Red. Coward of France!-how much he The same as guard-room. 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, 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. Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee. Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make his grave. Now, Salisbury! for thee, and for the right [The English scale the Walls, crying St. George! a Talbot! and all enter by the Town. Sent. [Within.] Arm, arm! the enemy doth make assault! The French leap over the Walls in their Shirts. Enter, several ways, BASTARD, ALENÇON, REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready. Alen. How now, my lords? what, all unready so? Bast. Unready? ay, and glad we 'scap'd sc well. 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 Ne'er heard 'I of a warlike enterprize [arms, More venturous, or desperate than this. Bast. I think, this Talbot be a fiend of hell. Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him. Alen. Here cometh Charles; I marvel, how he sped. Enter CHARLES, and LA PUCELLE. Bast. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard. Char. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame? Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, his friend? We had not been thus shamefully surpriz'd. Bust. Mine was secure. Reig. And so was mine, my lord. Char. And, for myself, most part of all this night, Within her quarter, and mine own precinct, Then how, or which way, should they first break in? Puc. Question, my lords, no further of the case, [place How, or which way; 'tis sure, they found some But weakly guarded, where the breach was made. And now there rests no other shift but this, To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd, 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 lett. The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword; Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled, Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. Bed. 'Tis thought, lord Talbot, when the fight began, Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds, They did, amongst the troops of armed men, Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field. Bur. Myself, (as far as I could well discern, For smoke, and dusky vapours of the night,) Am sure, I scar'd the Dauphin, and his trull; When arm in arm they both came swiftly runLike to a pair of loving turtle-doves, [ning, That could not live asunder day or night. After that things are set in order here, We'll follow them with all the power we have. Tal. Here is the Talbot; who would speak with him? Mess. The virtuous lady, countess of AuWith modesty admiring thy renown, [vergne, By me entreats, good lord, thou wouldst vouch safe To visit her poor castle where she lies;* Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see, our wars Could not prevail with all their oratory, 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 remeI mean to prove this lady's courtesy. [dy, Come hither, captain. [Whispers.]—You perceive my mind. Capt. I do, my lord; and mean accordingly. [Exeunt. SCENE III-Auvergne.-Court of the Castle. Enter the COUNTESS and her PORTER. Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge; [to me. And, when you have done so, bring the keys Port. Madam, I will. [Exit. [right, Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out I shall as famous be by this exploit, As Scythian Thomyris by Cyrus' death." Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight, And his achievements of no less account: Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, To give their censure of these rare reports. According as your ladyship desir'd, Mess. Madam, it is. Count. Is this the scourge of France? But, since your ladyship is not at leisure, Count. What means he now?-Go ask him, whither he es. Mess. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady Re-enter PORTER, with Keys. Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. Count. To me, blood-thirsty lord; But now the substance shall endure the like; Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn to moan. Tal, I laugh to see your ladyship so fond,* Count. Why, art not thou the man? Count. Then have I substance too. [dow, Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself: I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, He will be here, and yet he is not here: Tal. That will I show you presently. How say you, madam? are you now persuaded, These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength, With which he yoketh your rebellious necks; Count. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse: I did not entertain thee as thou art. Tal. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor miscon- But only (with your patience,) that we may For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well. Count. With all my heart: and think me my house. honoured To feast so great a warrior in [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 Dare no man answer in a case of truth? * Foolish [loud; Plan. Then say at once, If I maintain'd the Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in the error War. Between two hawks, which flies the temper, Between two girls, which hath the merriest I eye, But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgeGood faith, I am no wiser than a daw. Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbear ance: The truth appears so naked on my side, Som. And on my side it is so well apparell'd, to speak, Let him, that is a true-born gentleman, Of base insinuating flattery, I pluck this white rose, with Plantagenet. no more, And say withal, I think he held the right. Som. Good master Vernon, it is well object- Ver. Then, for the truth and plainness of the case, I pluck this pale, and maiden blossom here, Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red, For pale they look with fear, as witnessing The truth on our side. Som. No, Plantagenet, 'Tis not for fear; but anger,-that thy cheeks Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses; And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset? Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet? Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth; [hood. Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falseSom. 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. Suff. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. Plan. Proud Poole, I will; and scorn both him and thee. Suff. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throa..! Som. Away, away, good William De-laPoole! [him. We grace the yeoman, by conversing with War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset ; Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament, A thousand souls to death and deadly night. Plan. Good master Vernon, I am bound to you, That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence, Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.Third son to the third Edward king of Eng-Even like a man new haled from the rack, So fare my limbs with long imprisonment: And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death, land; Spring crestless yeomen* from so deep a root? Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege,t Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus. Som. By him that made me, I'll maintain my words On any plot of ground in Christendom: Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge, For treason executed in our late king's days? Were growing time once ripen'd to my will. And know us, by these colours, for thy foes; Nestor-like aged, in an age of care, Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent:+ And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine That droops his sapless branches to the ground:[numb, Yet are these feet-whose strengthless stay is Unable to support this lump of clay,Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, As witting I no other comfort have.But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? 1 Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine. Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence; I would, his troubles likewise were expir'd, That so he might recover what was lost. Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET. 1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend? Is he come? The heralds that, fore-running death, proclaim its ap+ End. proach. 1 I. c. He who terminates or concludes misery. |