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Or by what means got'ft thou to be releas'd?
Difcourfe, I pr'ythee, on this turret's top.

TAL. The duke of Bedford had a prifoner,
Called-the brave lord Ponton de Santrailles;
For him I was exchang'd and ranfomed.
But with a bafer man of arms by far,

Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd me:
Which I, difdaining, fcorn'd: and craved death
Rather than I would be fo pil'd esteem'd.
In fine, redeem'd I was as I defir'd.

But, O! the treacherous Faftolfe wounds my heart!
Whom with my bare fifts I would execute,

If I now had him brought into my power.

SAL. Yet tell'ft thou not, how thou wert entertain'd TAL. With fcoffs, and fcorns, and contumelious taunts. In open market-place produc'd they me,

To be a publick spectacle to all;

Here, faid they, is the terror of the French,

The fcare-crow that affrights our children fo.
Then broke I from the officers that led me;
And with my nails digg'd ftones out of the ground,
To hurl at the beholders of my fhame.

My grifly countenance made others fly;

None durft come near, for fear of fudden death.
In iron walls they deem'd me not fecure;

So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread,
That they fuppos'd, I could rend bars of fteel,
And fpurn in pieces pofts of adamant :
Wherefore a guard of chofen fhot I had,
That walk'd about me every minute-while;
And if I did but ftir out of my bed,

Ready they were to fhoot me to the heart.

SAL. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd;

But we will be reveng'd fufficiently.
Now it is fupper-time in Orleans:

Here, through this grate, I can count every one,
And view the Frenchmen how they fortify;

Let us look in, the fight will much delight thee.-
Sir Thomas Gargrave, and fir William Glanfdale,
Let me have your exprefs opinions,

Where is beft place to make our battery next.

GAR. I think, at the north gate; for there ftand lords, GLAN. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge. TAL. For aught I fee, this city must be famifh'd, Or with light fkirmishes enfeebled.

[Shot from the town. SALISBURY and Sir THO, GARGRAVE fall.

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 crofs'dus?—
Speak, Salisbury; at leaft, if thou canst fpeak;

How far'ft thou, mirror of all martial men?
One of thy eyes, and thy cheek's fide ftruck off!-
Accurfed tower! accurfed fatal hand,

That hath contriv'd this woful tragedy!
In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame;
Henry the fifth he first train'd to the wars:
Whilft any trump did found, or drum ftruck up,
His fword did ne'er leave ftriking in the field.-
Yet liv'ft thou, Salisbury? though thy fpeech doth fail,
One
thou haft to look to heaven for grace:
The fun with one eye vieweth all the world.-
Heaven, 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?

eye

Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.
Salisbury, cheer thy fpirit with this comfort;
Thou shalt not die, whiles

He beckons with his hand, and fmiles on me;
As who fhould 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.

[Thunder beard; afterwards an alarum.

What ftir is this? What tumult's in the heavens?

Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise?
Enter a MESSENGER.

MESS. My lord, my lord, the French have gather'd The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd,- [head: A holy prophetess, new rifen up,—

Is come with a great power to raise the fiege.

[SALISBURY 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 puzzel, dolphin or dogfish,

Your hearts I'll ftamp out with my horfe's heels,
And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.—

Convey me Salisbury into his tent,

And then we'll try what these daftard Frenchmen dare,

[Exeunt bearing out the bodies.

SCENE V. The fame. Before one of the gates.

Alarum. Skirmishings. TALBOT purfueth the DAUPHIN, and driveth him in; then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her. Then enter TALBOT. TAL. Where is my ftrength, my valour, and my force?

Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them ;
A woman, clad in armour, chafeth them.

Enter LA PUCELLE.

Here, here fhe comes:I'll have a bout with thee; Devil, or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee:

Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch,

And straightway give thy foul to him thou ferv'ft.
Puc. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee.

[They fight.

TAL. Heavens, can you fuffer hell so to prevail? My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage, And from my fhoulders crack my arms afunder, But I will chástise this high-minded strumpet.

Puc, Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come:
I must go victual Orleans forthwith.

O'ertake me, if thou can'ft; I fcorn thy ftrength.
Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-ftarved men ;
Help Salisbury to make his teftament:

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 the lifts:
So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome stench,
Are from their hives, and houses, driven away.
They call'd us, for our fiercenefs, English dogs;
Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.

[Afbort alarum.

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 timorous from the wolf,

Or horfe, or oxen, from the leopard,
As you fly from your oft-fubdued flaves.

[Alarum. 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 fpite 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.

[Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt TALBOT and his forces, &c.

SCENE VI. The fame.

Enter, on the walls, PUCELLE, CHARLES, REIGNIER, ALENÇON, and foldiers.

Puc. Advance our waving colours on the walls; Refcu'd is Orleans from the English wolves:Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.

CHAR. Divineft creature, bright Aftræa's daughter, How fhall I honour thee for this fuccefs?

Thy promifes 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 bleffed hap did ne'er befall our state.

REIG. Why ring not out the bells throughout the town? Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires, And feaft 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, When they shall hear how we have play'd the men. CHAR, 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won; For which, I will divide my crown with her :

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