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Win. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot;

This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain,
To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.

Glo. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back:
Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing cloth
I'll use, to carry thee out of this place.

Win. Do what thou dar'st; I beard thee to thy face.

Glo. What? am I dar'd, and bearded to my face? Draw, men, for all this privileged place; Blue-coats to tawny-coats. Priest, beware your beard;


[GLOSTER and his men attack the Bishop. I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly: Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat; In spite of pope, or dignities of church, Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down. Win. Gloster, thou'lt answer this before the pope.

Glo. Winchester goose, I cry- a rope! a rope! Now beat them hence, Why do you let them stay? Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array. · Out, tawney-coats! out, scarlet hypocrite!


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SCENE IV. 7.- France. Before Orleans. Enter, on the walls, the Master-Gunner and his Son.

M. Gun. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is besieg'd;

And how the English have the suburbs won.

Son. Father, I know; and oft have shot at them, Howe'er, unfortunate, I missed my aim.

M. Gun. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd by me :

Chief master gunner am I of this town;
Something I must do, to procure me grace.
How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd,
The prince's espials have informed me,
Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars
In yonder tower, to overpeer the city;
And thence discover, how, with most advantage,
They may vex us, with shot, or with assault.
To intercept this inconvenience,

A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd;
And fully even these three days have I watch'd,
If I could see them. Now, boy, do thou watch,

For I can stay no longer.
If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word;
And thou shalt find me at the governor's.

[Exit. Son. Father, I warrant you; take you no care; I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them.

Enter, in an upper chamber of a tower, the LORDS SALISBURY and TALBOT, Sir WILLIAM GLANS DALE, Sir THOMAS GARGRAVE, and others.

Sal. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd!
How wert thou handled, being prisoner?
Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd?
Discourse, I pr'ythee, on this turret's top.

Tal. The duke of Bedford had a prisoner,
Called the brave lord Ponton de Santrailles;
For him I was exchang'd and ransomed.
But with a baser man of arms by far,
Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd me
Which I, disdaining, scorn'd; and craved death
Rather than I would be so pil'd esteem'd.
In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd.

But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart!

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Whom with my bare fists I would execute,
If I now had him brought into my power.

Sal. Yet tell'st thou not, how thou wert entertain'd.

Tal. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious


In open market-place produc'd they me,
To be a publick spectacle to all:

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

To hurl 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


That they suppos'd, I could rend bars of steel,
And spurn in pieces posts of adamant :
Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had,
That walk'd about me every minute-while;

And if I did out stir out of my bed,
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.
Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd;
But we will be reveng'd sufficiently.
Now it is supper-time in Orleans:
Here, through this grate, I can count every one,
And view the Frenchinen 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.

Glan. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge. Tal. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd, 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, woeful man! 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 woeful 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 leave striking in the field.
Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? though thy speech doth

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 hand!
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

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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 Neru-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?

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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.
[SALISBURY groans.
Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth

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 Frenchmen
dare. [Exeunt, bearing out the bodies.

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- 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 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.


Here, here she comes: -

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 serv'st,
Puc. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace
[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.

- I'll have a bout with

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.
[Alarum. Another skirmish.
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.

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France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess !
Recover'd is the town of Orleans:
More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.

leg. Why ring not out the bells throughout the

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

When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.
Char. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is


For which, I will divide my crown with her :


The same.

Enter to the gates, a French Sergeant, and Two

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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.
with scaling ladders; their drums beating a dead


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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 pure?
Tal. A maid, they say.

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

And all the priests and friars in my realm
Shall, in procession, sing her endless praise.
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 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.

Of English Henry, shall this night appear
How much in duty I am bound to both.

[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 shits.
Enter, several ways, Bastard, ALENÇON, REIG,
NIER, half ready, and half unready.

Alen. How now, my lords? what, all unready so?
Bast. Unready? ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well.
Reig. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our

Hearing alarums at our chamber doors.

Alen. Of all exploits, since first I follow'd arms, Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprize

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

Alen. Here cometh Charles; I marvel, how be


Bast. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard.
Char. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame?
Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal,
Make us partakers of a little gain,

That now our loss might be ten times so much?
Puc. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his

If underneath the standard of the French,

At all times will you have my power alike?
Sleeping, or waking, must I still prevail,
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?

She carry armour, as she hath begun.

Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good,


This sudden mischief never could have fall'n.

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. Not all together: better far, I guess,
That we do make our entrance several ways;
That, if it chance the one of us do fail,
The other yet may rise against their force.
Bed. Agreed; I'li to yon corner.

And I to this.

Ta. And here will Talbot mount, or make his grave

Now, Salisbury for thee, and for the right

Char. Duke of Alençon, this was your default;
That, being captain of the watch to-night,
Did look no better to that weighty charge.

Alen. Had all your quarters been as safely kept,
As that whereof I had the government,
We had not been thus shamefully surpriz'd.
Bast. Mine was secure.

And so was mine, my lord.
Char. And, for myself, most part of all this

Within her quarter, and mine own precinct,
I was employ'd in passing to and fro,

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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.
The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword;
For I have loaden me with many spoils,
Using no other weapon but his name.

Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see, our wars
Will turn unto a peaceful comick 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


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, [Exit. I mean to prove this lady's courtesy.

Come hither, captain. [Whispers.] - You perceive
my mind.

Capt. I do, my lord; and mean accordingly.

SCENE III. Auvergne. Court of the Castle.
Enter the COUNTESS and her Porter.

Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge;
And, when you have done so, bring the keys to me.
Port. Madam, I will.

Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out right,
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.

Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts
So much applauded through the realm of France?
Tal. Here is the Talbot; who would speak with

Could not prevail with all their oratory,
Yet hath a woman's kindness over-rul'd:-
And therefore tell her, I return great thanks;
And in submission will attend on her.
Will not your honours bear me company?


Mess. The virtuous lady, countess of Auvergne,
With modesty admiring thy renown,
By me entreats, good lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe
To visit her poor castle where she lies;
That she may boast, she hath beheld the man
Whose glory fills the world with loud report.

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Within the Town.

SCENE II. - Orleans.
and others.

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

A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd:
Upon the which, that every one may read,
Shall be engrav'd 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,

Enter Messenger and TALBOT.
Mess. Madam,
According as your ladyship desir'd,
By message crav'd, so is lord Talbot come.
Count. And he is welcome. What is this the

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

Mess. Madam, it is.

Is this the scourge of France?
Bed. 'Tis thought, lord Talbot, when the fight Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad,
That with his name the mothers still their babes?
Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds, I see, report is fabulous and false :
They did, amongst the troops of armed men,
Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field.

I thought, I should have seen some Hercules,
A second Hector, for his grim aspect,
And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs.
Alas! this is a child, a silly dwarf:

It cannot be, this weak and writhled shrimp
Should strike such terror to his enemies.

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 running,
Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves,
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.

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Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you: But, since your ladyship is not at leisure, I'll sort some other time to visit you. Count. What means he now? whither he goes. Mess. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady craves Mess. All hail, my lords! which of this princely 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.

Enter a Messenger.


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- Go ask him,

Re-enter Porter, with keys.

Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner ·Tal. Prisoner! to whom?


To me, blood-thirsty iord;
And for that cause I train'd thee to my house.
Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me,
For in my gallery thy picture hangs :

But now the substance shall endure the like;

And I will chain these legs and arms of thine,
That hast by tyranny, these many years,
Wasted our country, slain our citizens,
And sent our sons and husbands captivate.
Tal. Ha, ha, ha!

Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall

turn to moan.

Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond,
To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow,
Whereon to practice your severity.

Count. Why, art not thou the man?
Count. Then have I substance too.

Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself:
You are deceiv'd, 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 pitch,
Your roof were not sufficient to contain it.

I am indeed.

Count. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce; He will be here, and yet he is not here: How can these contrarieties agree?

Tal. That will I show you presently.

He winds a Horn. Drums heard; then a Peal of
Ordnance. The Gates being forced, 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;
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 : No 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 honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house. [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 this silence?

Dare no man answer in a case of truth?

Suf. Within the Temple hall we were too loud; The garden here is more convenient.

Plan. Then say at once, If I maintain'd the truth; Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in the error?

Suf. 'Faith, I have been a truant in the law;
And never yet could frame my will to it;
And, therefore, frame the law unto my will.

Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then bo

tween us.

War. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch, Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,

Between two blades, which bears the better temper
Between two horses, which doth bear him best,
Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye,
I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance
The truth appears so naked on my side,
That any purblind eye may find it out.

Som. And on my side it is so well apparell'd, So clear, so shining, and so evident,

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Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed,
Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt,
And keep me on the side where still I am.

Som. Well, well, come on; Who else?
Law. Unless my study and my books be false,
The argument you held, was wrong in you;
In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too.
Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argument?
Som. Here, in my scabbard; meditating that,
Shall die your white rose in a bloody red.

Plan. Mean time, your cheeks do counterfeit our


For pale they look with fear, as witnessing
The truth on our side.

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