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Shall, in procession, sing her endless praise.
A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear,
Than Rhodope's, of Memphis, ever was.'
In memory of her, when she is dead,
Her ashes, in an urn more precious
Than the rich-jeweled coffer of Darius,2
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.

ACT II.

SCENE I. The same.

Enter, to the gates, a French Sergeant, and 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.

1 Sent. Sergeant, you shall. [Exit Sergeant.] Thus are poor servitors (When others sleep upon their quiet beds) Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.

1 The old copy reads:

"Than Rhodophe's or Memphis ever was.”

Rhodope, or Rhodopis, a celebrated courtesan, who was a slave in the same service with sop, at Samos.

2 "In what price the noble poems of Homer were holden by Alexander the Great, insomuch that everie night they were layd under his pillow, and by day were carried in the rich jewel coffer of Darius, lately before vanquished by him.”—Puttenham's Arte of Englishe Poesie, 1589.

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,
Walloon 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.

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 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.

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'll to yon corner.

Bur.

And I to this.

Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make his

grave.

Now, Salisbury! for thee, and for the right

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 shirts.

Enter, several ways, BASTARD, ALENÇON, REIgnier, half ready and half unready.

Alen. How now, my lords? what, all unready1 so? Bast. Unready? ay, and glad we 'scaped so 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 followed arms, Never heard I of a warlike enterprise

More venturous, or desperate than this.

Bast. I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.

Reig. If not of hell, the Heavens, sure, favor 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,

Make us partakers of a little gain,

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

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?—
Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good,
This sudden mischief never could have fallen.
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 surprised.

1 Unready is undressed.

Bast. 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,

I was employed in passing to and fro,

About relieving of the sentinels.

Then how, or which way, should they first break in?
Puc. Question, my lords, no further of the case,
How, or which way; 'tis sure, they found some place
But weakly guarded, where the breach was made;
And now there rests no other shift but this,-
To gather our soldiers, scattered 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.
The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword;
For I have loaden me with many spoils,
Using no other weapon but his name.

SCENE II. Orleans. Within the Town.

[Exit.

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain, and

others.

Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled, Whose pitchy mantle over-veiled 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.

1 Plans, schemes.

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

A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interred;
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.

Bed. 'Tis thought, lord Talbot, when the fight

began,

Roused 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 vapors of the night)
Am sure I scared 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.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. All hail, my lords! Which of this princely train 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 him?

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;1
That she may boast she hath beheld the man
Whose glory fills the world with loud report.

1 i. e. where she dwells.

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