More venturous, or defperate than this.

Baft. I think this Talbot is a fiend of hell.
If not of hell, the heav'ns fure favour him.
Alan, Here cometh Charles, I marvel how he sped.
Enter Dauphin and Joan.

Baft. Tut! holy Joan was his defenfive guard.
Dau. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame ?
Didst thou at firft, to flatter us withal,

Make us partakers of a little gain;

That now our lofs might be ten times fo much?

Pucel. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?
At all times will you have my pow'r alike ?
Sleeping or waking muft I ftill prevail?

Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?
Improvident foldiers! had your watch been good,
This fudden mifchief never could have fall'n.
Dau. Duke of Alanfon, this was your default,
That, being captain of the watch to-night,
Did look no better to that weighty charge.
Alan. Had all our quarters been as fafely kept,
As that whereof I had the government,
We had not been thus fhamefully furpriz'd.
Baft. Mine was fecure.

Reig. And fo was mine, my Lord.

Dau. And for my felf, moft part of all this night Within her quarter and mine own precinct

I was employ'd in paffing to and fro,

About relieving of the centinels.

Then how or which way fhould they first break in ?
Pucel. Question, my Lord, no further of the cafe,
How or which way; 'tis fure they found fome part
But weakly guarded, where the breach was made:
And now there refts no other fhift but this,
To gather foldiers, fcatter'd and difperft,
And lay new platforms to endamage them.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III, Within the walls of Orleans. Alarum. Enter a Soldier crying, a Talbot! a Talbot! the French fly, leaving their cloaths behind.

Sol. I'll be fo bold to take what they have left: The cry of Talbot ferves me for a fword,

For

For I have loaden me with many spoils,
Ufing no other weapon but his name.

Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy.

Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled,
Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth.
Here found retreat, and ceafe our hot pursuit.
Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury,
And here advance it in the market-place,
The middle centre of this curfed town.
Now have I pay'd my vow unto his foul.
For ev'ry drop of blood was drawn from him,
There have at least five Frenchmen dy'd to-night.
And that hereafter ages may behold
What ruin happen'd in revenge of him,
Within the chiefeft temple I'll erect

A tomb, wherein his corps fhall be interr'd;
Upon the which, that every one may read,
Shall be engrav'd the fack of Orleans,

The treach'rous manner of his mournful death,
And what a terror he had been to France.
But, Lords, in all our bloody maffacre,

I muse we met not with the Dauphin's Grace,
His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc,
Nor any of his falfe confederates.

[Exit.

[Retreat,

Bed. 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began, Rous'd on the fudden from their drowfie beds,

They did amongst the troops of armed men
Leap o'er the walls, for refuge in the field.

Bur. My felf, as far as I could well difcern
For fmoak and dufty vapours of the night,
Am fure I fcar'd the Dauphin and his trull;
When arm in arm they both came fwiftly running,
Like to a pair of loving Turtle Doves,

That could not live afunder day or night.

After that things are fet in order here,

We'll follow them with all the pow'r we have.

Enter a Meffenger.

Me. 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

Tal. Here is the Talbot, who would speak with him ? Me. The virtuous Lady, Countess of Auvergne, With modefty admiring thy renown,

By me intreats, great Lord, thou would'ft vouchfafe
To vifit her poor caftle where the lyes;

That the may boaft fhe hath beheld the man
Whofe glory, fills the world with loud report.

Bur. Is it ev'n fo? nay, then I see our wars
Will turn into a peaceful comick fport,
When Ladies crave to be encounter'd with.
You can't, my Lord, despise her gentle fuit.

Tal. Nay, truft me there: for when a world of men
Could not prevail with all their oratory,
Yet bath a woman's kindness over-rul'd:
And therefore tell her, I return great thanks,
And in fubmiffion will attend on her.
Will not your honours bear me company?

Bed. No truly, that is more than manners will:
And I have heard it faid, unbidden guests
Are often welcomeft when they are gone.

Tal. Well then, alone, fince there's no remedy,

I mean to prove this Lady's courtefie.

Come hither, captain; you perceive my mind. [Whispers. Capt. I do, my Lord, and mean accordingly. [Exeunt, SCENE IV. The Countess of Auvergne's Caftle Enter the Countess and ber Porter.

Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge,

And when you've done fo, bring the keys to me.

Port. Madam, I will.

Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out right,

I fhall as famous be by this exploit,

As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death.
Great is the rumour of this dreadful Knight,
And his atchievements of no less account:

Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears,
To give their cenfure of these rare reports.

Enter Meflenger and Talbot.
Me Madam, according as your Ladyship
By meffage crav'd, fo is Lord Talbot come.

[Exit,

Count

Count. And he is welcome; what? is this the man?

Me. Madam, it is.

Count. Is this the fcourge of France?

Is this the Talbot so much fear'd abroad,

That with his name the mothers ftill their babes ?
I fee report is fabulous and falfe.

I thought I should have feen fome Hercules,
A fecond Hector, for his grim afpect,
And large proportion of his ftrong-knit limbs.
Alas! this is a child, a filly dwarf :

It cannot be, this weak and wrizled Shrimp
Should ftrike fuch terror in his enemies.

Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you:
But fince your Ladyship is not at leisure,

I'll fort fome other time to vifit you.

Count. What means he now? Go afk whither he goes. Me. Stay, my Lord Talbot, for my Lady craves To know the caufe of your abrupt departure.

Tal. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief, I go to certifie her, Talbot's here.

Enter Porter with keys.

Count. If thou be he, then art thou prifoner.
Tal. Pris'ner? to whom?

Count. To me, blood-thirsty Lord:

And for that caufe I train'd thee to my house.
Long time thy fhadow hath been thrall to me,
For in my gallery thy picture hangs:

But now the fubftance fhall endure the like,
And I will chain these legs and arms of thine,
That haft by tyranny these many years

Wafted our country, flain our citizens,

And fent our fons and hufbands captivate.

Tal. Ha, ha, ha.

Count. Laugheft thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn to

moan.

Tal. I laugh to fee your Ladyship fo fond,

To think that you have ought but Talbot's fhadow
Whereon to practice your severity.

Count. Why? art not thou the man?

Tal. I am indeed.

Count

Count. Then have I fubftance too.

Tal. No, no, I am but fhadow of my self:
You are deceiv'd, my fubftance is not here;
For what you fee is but the smallest part
And leaft proportion of humanity :

I tell you, Madam, were the whole frame here,
It is of fuch a fpacious lofty pitch,

Your roof were not fufficient to contain it.

Count. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce, He will be here, and yet he is not here:

How can these contrarieties agree?

Tal. That will I fhew you prefently.

Winds bis born, drums ftrike up, a peal of Ordnance &
Enter Soldiers.

How fay you, Madam? are you now perfuaded
That Talbot is but fhadow of himself ?

These are his substance, finews, arms and strength,
With which he yoaketh your rebellious necks,
Razeth cities and fubverts your towns,

your

And in a moment makes them defolate.'

Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse;
I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited,
And more than may be gather'd by thy shape.
Let my prefumption not provoke thy wrath,
For I am forry that with reverence

I did not entertain thee as thou art.

Tal. Be not difmay'd, fair Lady, nor misconstrue The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake

The outward compofition of his body.

What you have done hath not offended me:

Nor other fatisfaction do I crave,

But only with your patience that we may

Taste of your wine, and fee what cates you have,
For foldiers ftomachs always ferve them well.

Count. With all my heart, and think me honoured

To feast so great a warrior in my house.

[Exeunt,

SCENE