The shame hereof will make me hide my head. Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, [Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt TALBOT and 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?

his Forces, &c.

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?
Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens,
That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the

next.

France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess!-
Recover'd is the town of Orleans:

More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.
Reig. Why ring not out the bells through-
out the town?
[fires,
Dauphin, command the citizens make bon-
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 joy.
[men.
When they shall hear how we have play'd the
Char. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day

is won;

For which, I will divide my crown with her:
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.

ACT II.

SCEN I. The same.

Exeunt.

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 SER-
GEANT. [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 Burgun-
dy,-

By whose approach, the regions of Artois,
Walloon, and Picardy, are friends to us,-
This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
Having all day carous'd and banquetted:
Embrace we then this opportunity;
As fitting best to quittance their deceit,
Contriv'd by art, and baleful sorcery.

Bed. Coward of France!-how much he
wrongs his fame,

*The same sound-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,
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 bulwark.

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 un-
ready* so?

Bast. Unready? ay, and glad we 'scap'd 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 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 heaven's, 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,
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?

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.

Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see, our wars
Will turn into a peaceful comic 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 men

And now there rests no other shift but this,-Could not prevail with all their oratory,
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.

Yet hath a woman's kindness over-ruled:-
And therefore tell her, I return great thanks;
And in submission will attend on her.-
Will not your honours bear me company?

Sold. I'll be so bold to take what they have

left.

SCENE II-Orleans-Within the Town.

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 reme-
I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. [dy,
Come hither, captain. [Whispers.]—You per-
ceive my mind.

Capt. Ido, my lord; and mean accordingly.
Exeunt.

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a CAP-SCENE III-Auvergne.—Court of the Castle

TAIN, and others.

Bed. The day begins to break, and night is
filed,

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-
And, that hereafter ages may behold [night.
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,
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,

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.

[ning,

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 run-
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

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.

Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out
I shall as famous be by this exploit, [right,
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 censuret of these rare reports.
Enter MESSENGER and TALBOT.
Mess. Madam,

According as your ladyship desir'd,
My message crav'd, so is lord Talbot come.
Count. And he is welcome. What! is this
the man?

Mess. Madam, it is.

Count. Is this the scourge of France?
Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad,
That with his name the mothers still their babes?
I see, report is fabulous and false:

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.
Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble
you:

But, since your ladyship is not at leisure,
I'l sort some other time to visit you,

Count. What means he now ?-Go ask him,
whither he goes.

Mess. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady

craves

To know the cause of your abrupt departure.
Tal. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,

So much applauded through the realm of I go to certify her, Talbot's here.

France?

Between two horses, which doth bear him Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye, [ment: sha-have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgeBut in these nice sharp quillets of the law, [dow, Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

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

Som. No, Plantagenet,

Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament, Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster: And, if thou be not then created York, 'Tis not for fear; but anger,-that thy cheeks I will not live to be accounted Warwick. Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses; Meantime, in signal of my love to thee, And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. Against proud Somerset, and William Poole, Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset? Will I upon thy party wear this rose : Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Planta- And here I prophesy.--This brawl to-day, genet? Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden, Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain Shall send, between the red rose and the his truth; [hood. white, Whiles thy consuming canker eats his false-A thousand souls to death and deadly night. Som. Well, I'll find friends to wear my Plan. Good master Vernon, I am bound to

bleeding roses,

you,

That shall maintain what I have said is true,That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the

Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my
hand,

I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.
Suff. Turn not thy scorns this way, Planta-
genet.

Plan. Proud Poole, I will; and scorn both

him and thee.

Suff. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat.
Som. Away, away, good William De-la-
Poole!
[him.
We grace the yeoman, by conversing with
War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st

him, Somerset ;

same.

SCENE V.-The same.-A Room in the Tower.
Enter MORTIMER, brought in a Chair by two
Keepers.

Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence, Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.→ age, Third son to the third Edward king of Eng-Even like a man new haled from the rack, And these grey locks, the pursuivants of So fare my limbs with long imprisonment: death,*

land;

Spring crestless yeoman* from so deepa 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

Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.
Nestor-like aged, in an age of care,
These eyes-like lamps whose wasting oil is
spent,-

On any plot of ground in Christendom:
Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cam-Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent:f

bridge,

For treason executed in our late king's days? Weak shoulders, overborne with burd'ning And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted, And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine grief; Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? That droops his sapless branches to the His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood; And, till thou be restor❜d, thou art a yeoman. Yet are these feet-whose strengthless stay is ground :[numb, Plan. My father was attached, not attainted, Unable to support this lump of clay,Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor; Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, And that I'll prove on better men than Somer-As witting I no other comfort have.— But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? 1 Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will

set,

Were growing time once ripen'd to my will.
For your partakerý Poole, and you yourself,
I'll note you in my book of memory,
To scourge you for this apprehension :||
Look to it well; and say you are well warn'd.
Som. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee
still:

And know us, by these colours, for thy foes;
For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall

wear.

Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry

rose,

As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,
Will I for ever, and my faction wear;
Until it wither with me to the grave,
Or flourish to the height of my degree.
'Suff. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy

ambition!

And so farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit.
Som. Have with thee, Poole.-Farewell,
ambitious Richard.
[Exit.

Plan. How I am brav'd, and must perforce
endure it!

War. This blot, that they object against
your house,

*Ie. Those who have no right to arms.
The temple, being a religious house, was a sanctuary
+ Excluded. 5 Confederate. || Opinion.

come:

We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber;
And answer was return'd that he will come.

Mor. Enough; my soul shall then be satis-
fied.-

Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign,
(Before whose glory I was great in arms,)
And even since then hath Richard been ob-
This loathsome sequestration have I had;
Deprived of honour and inheritance: [scur'd.
But now, the arbitrator of despairs,

Just death, kind umpiret 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