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 stamp out with my horse's heels,
And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.-
Convey me Salisbury into his tent,

And then we'll try what dastard Frenchmen dare.
[Alarum. Exeunt, bearing out the Bodies.

SCENE V.

Here an Alarum again; and TALBOT pursueth the Dauphin, and driveth him: then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her. Then enter TALBOT. Tal. Where is my strength, my valour, and my

force?

Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; 530 A woman, clad in armour, chaseth them.

Enter LA PUCELLE.

Here, here she 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 soul to him thou serv'st.
Pucel. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace
[They fight.

thee.

Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail? My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage,

And

And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder,
But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.

540

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

[A short Alarum.

Then enters the Town with Soldiers. O'ertake me if thou canst; I scorn thy strength. Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-starved men; Help Salisbury to make his testament :

This day is ours, as many more shall 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 she lists: 550
So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome stench,
Are from their hives, and houses, driven away.
They call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs;
Now, like their whelps, we crying run away.
[A short Alarum.
Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight,
Or tear the lions out of England's coat;
Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead
Sheep run not half so timorous from the wolf,
Or horse, or oxen, from the leopard,
As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.-

560

[Alarum. Here another Skirmish.

It will not be:-Retire into your trenches :
You all consented unto Salisbury's death,
For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.-
Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans,

Printed for J.Bell, British Library, Strand, London; March 3d