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 armour 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 yond 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.

Sent. Arm! arm! the enemy doth make assault! [Cry: St. George,' A Talbot.'

The French leap over the walls in their shirts. Enter, several ways, the BASTARD of Orleans, ALENÇON, and REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready.

Alen. How now, my lords! what, all unready so? Bast. Unready! ay, and glad we 'scaped so well. Reig. 'T was time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,

Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors.

Alen. Of all exploits since first I followed arms, Ne'er 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, favour

him.

Alen. Here cometh Charles; I marvel how he

sped.

Bast. Tut, holy Joan was his defensive guard.

Enter CHARLES and LA PUCELLE.

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 fall'n.
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.
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; 't is 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.

Sol. 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.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-Orleans. Within the Town.

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 curséd 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 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. "T is thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight

began,

Roused on the sudden from their drowsy beds,
They did amongst the troops of arméd 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 scared the Dauphin and his trull,
When arm in arm they both came swiftly running,
Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves