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,
Before he'll buy again at fuch a rate.

'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,
And twit with cowardife a man half dead?
Damfel, I'll have a bout with you again,
Or elfe let Talbot perifh with his fhame.

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,

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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. I fpeak not to that railing Hecate,
But unto thee, Alanfon, and the rest.
Will ye, like foldiers, come and fight it out?
Alan. Seignior, 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
That we are here.
[Exeunt from the walls.
Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be long,
Or elfe reproach be Talbot's greatest fame!
Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy House,
Prick'd on by publick wrongs fuftain'd in France,
Either to get the town again, or die.
And, as fure as English Henry lives,
And as his father here was Conqueror,
As fure as in this late-betrayed town
Great Caurdelion's heart was buried,
So fure I fwear, to get the town, or die.

Burg. My vows are equal partners with thy vows,
Tal. But ere we go, regard this dying Prince,
The valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my Lord,
We will beftow you in fome better place:
Fitter for fickness, and for crazy age.

Bed. Lord Talbot, do not fo difhonour me:
Here I will fit before the walls of Roan,
And will be partner of your weal and woe.

Burg. Couragious Bedford, let us now perfuade you,
Bed. Not to be gone from hence; for once I read,

That ftout Pendragon, in his litter fick,
Came to the field, and vanquished his foes.
Methinks, I fhould revive the foldiers' hearts;
Because I ever found them as myself.

Tal. Undaunted fpirit in a dying breast!
Then be it fo. Heav'ns keep old Bedford fafe!

And

And no no more ado, brave Burgundy,
But gather we our forces out of hand,
And fet upon our boasting enemy.

[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?
They, that of late were daring with their fcoffs,
Are glad and fain by flight to fave themselves.

[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?
This is a double honour, Burgundy;
Yet, heav'ns have glory for this victory!
Burg. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
Infhrines thee in his heart; and there erects
Thy noble deeds, as Valour's monuments.

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;
That fuch a valíant company are fled.

Now we will take fome order in the town,
Placing therein fome expert officers,
And then depart to Paris to the King;
For there young Henry with his Nobles lies.

Burg. What wills Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy.
Tal. But yet before we go, let's not forget
The noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd;
But fee his exequies fulfill'd in Roan.
A braver foldier never couched lance,
A gentler heart did never fway in Court.
But Kings and mightiest Potentates must die,
For that's the end of human mifery.

[Exeunt.

Enter Dauphin, Baftard, Alanfon, and Joan la Pucelle.

Pucel. Difmay not, Princes, at this accident,
Nor grieve that Roan is fo recovered.

Care is no cure, but rather corrofive,
For things that are not to be remedy'd.
Let frantick Talbot triumph for a while;
And, like a Peacock, fweep along his tail,
We'll pull his plumes and take away his train,
If Dauphin and the reft will be but rul'd.

Dau. We have been guided by thee hitherto,
And of thy cunning had no diffidence.
One fudden foil shall never breed distrust.
Baft. Search out thy wit for fecret policies,
And we will make thee famous through the world.
Alan. We'll fet thy ftatue in fome holy place,
And have thee reverenc'd like a bleffed Saint.
Employ thee then, fweet virgin, for our good.
VOL. IV.

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,
And all the troops of English after him. [French March.
Now, in the rereward, comes the Duke and his,
Fortune, in favour, makes him lag behind.
Summon a parley, we will talk with him.

[Trumpets found a parley.

Enter the Duke of Burgundy marching.

Dau. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy.
Burg. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?
Pucel. The princely Charles of France, thy country-

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.

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Pucel.