Sal. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched finners.
Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, woful man.
Tal. What chance is this, that fuddenly hath croftus?
Speak, Salisbury; at leaft, if thou canft speak;
How far'ft thou, mirror of all martial men?
One of thy eyes and thy cheek's fide ftruck off!
Accurfed tow'r, accurfed fatal hand,

That hath contriv'd this woful tragedy!
In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame:
Henry the Fifth he firft train'd to the wars.
Whilft any trump did found, or drum ftruck up,
His fword did ne'er leave striking in the field.
Yet liv'ft thou, Salisbury? tho' thy fpeech doth fail,
One thou haft to look to heav'n for grace.
eye
The fun with one eye vieweth all the world.
Heav'n, be thou gracious to none alive,
If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!
Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it.
Sir Thomas Gargrave, haft thou any life?
Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.
O Salib'ry, chear thy fpirit with this comfort,
Thou shalt not die, while-

He beckons with his hand, and fmiles on me,
As who should fay, When I am dead and gone,
Remember to avenge me on the French.
Plantagenet, I will; and, Nero-like,

Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn:
Wretched fhall France be only in my name.

[Here an alarm, and it thunders and lightens. What ftir is this? what tumults in the heav'ns? Whence cometh this alarum and this noise?

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 prophetefs new risen up,

Is come with a great power to raise the fiege.
[Here Salisbury lifteth himself up, and groans.
Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan!
It irks his heart, he cannot be reveng'd.
Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you.

Pucelle or Puffel, Dauphin or Dog-fifh,

Your hearts I'll ftamp out with my Horfe's heels, And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. Convey brave Salisbury into his tent,

And then we'll try what daftard Frenchmen dare. [Alarm. Exeunt, bearing Salisbury and Sir Thomas Gargrave out.

SCENE X.

Here an alarm again; and Talbot purfueth the Dauphin, and driveth him: then enter Joan la Pucelle, driving Englishmen before her. Then enter Talbot.

Tal. THERE is my ftrength, my valour, and my force?

WHER

Our English troops retire, I cannot flay them:
A woman, clad in armour, chafeth them.

Enter Pucelle.

Here, here, fhe comes. I'll have about with thee;
Devil, or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee:
Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch;
And ftraightway give thy foul to him thou ferv'st.
Pucel. Come, come, 'tis only I, that muft disgrace
[They fight.

thee.

Tal. Heavens, can you fuffer hell so to prevail? My breast I'll burft with ftraining of my courage, And from my fhoulders crack my arms afunder, But I will chaftife this high-minded ftrumpet. Pucel. Talbot, farewel, thy hour is not yet come, I must go victual Orleans forthwith.

[A fhort alarm. Then enter the town with foldiers. O'ertake

O'ertake me if thou canft, I fcorn thy ftrength.
Go, go, chear up thy hunger-starved men,
Help Salisbury to make his teftament:

This day is ours, as many more fhall be. [Exit Pucelle. 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 the lifts.
So Bees with fmoke, and Doves with noisom stench,
Are from their hives, and houses, driv'n away.
They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs,
Now, like their whelps, we crying run away.

[Afhort alarm.
Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight,
Or tear the Lions out of England's Coat;
Renounce your foil, give Sheep in Lions' ftead:
Sheep run not half fo tim'rous from the Wolf,
Or Horfe or Oxen from the Leopard,

As

you fly from your oft-fubdued flaves.

[Alarm. Here another Skirmish. It will not be retire into your trenches: You all confented unto Salisbury's death, For none would ftrike a ftroke in his revenge. Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans,

In fpight of us, or aught that we could do.

O, would I were to die with Salisbury!

The fhame hereof will make me hide my head.

Exit. Talbot.

[Alarm, Retreat, Flourish.

SCENE

XI.

Enter on the Wall, Pucelle, Dauphin, Reignier,

Pucel.

A

Alanfon, and Soldiers.

DVANCE our waving colours on the
walls,

Refcu'd is Orleans from the English Wolves :
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.

Dau.

Dau. Divineft creature, bright Aftrea's daughter, How fhall I honour thee for this fuccefs! Thy promises are like Adonis Garden,

That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the next. France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess! Recover'd is the town of Orleans;

More bleffed hap did ne'er befal our state.

[town?

Reig. Why ring not out the bells throughout the Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires, And feaft and banquet in the open streets; To celebrate the joy, that God hath giv'n us.

Alan. All France will be replete with mirth and joy, When they fhall hear how we have play'd the men. Dau. '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 proceffion fing her endless praise. A ftatelier pyramid to her I'll rear, Than Rhodope's or Memphis' ever was! In memory of her, when fhe is dead, Her Ashes, in an urn more precious Than the rich-jewel'd coffer of Darius, Tranfported fhall be at high fellivals, Before the Kings and Queens of France. No longer on St. Dennis will we cry, But Joan la Pucelle fhall be France's Saint. Come in, and let us banquet royally,

After this golden day of victory. [Flourish. Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Before ORLEANS.

Enter a Serjeant of a Band, with two Centinels.

SERJEANT.

S'If any noile or foldier you perceive

IRS, take your places, and be vigilant :

Near

Near to the wall, by fome apparent fign
Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.

Cent. Serjeant, you fhall. Thus are poor fervitors (When others fleep upon their quiet beds) Conftrain'd to watch in darknefs, rain, and cold.

Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy, with fcalingladders. Their drums beating a dead march.

Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, ·
By whole 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 beft to quittance their deceit,
Contriv'd by art and baleful forcery.

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

Defpairing of his own arms' 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 fay.

Bed. A maid? and be fo martial?

Bur. Pray God, fhe prove not masculine ere long! If underneath the ftandard of the French She carry armour, as the hath begun.

Tal Well,let them practife and converse with spirits; God is our fortrefs, in whofe conqu❜ring name Let us refolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. Bed. Afcend, brave Talbot, we will follow thee. Tal. Not all together: better far I guess, That we do make our entrance feveral 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. I to this.

Tal.