(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 Burgundy, By whose approach, the regions of Artois, Bed. Coward of France! - how much he wrongs his fame, Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, To join with witches, and the help of hell. Bed. A maid! and be so martial! Bur. Pray God, she prove not masculine ere long; If underneath the standard of the French, Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with spirits: God is our fortress; in whose conquering name, Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. 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, Bur. And I this. Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make his grave Now, Salisbury! for thee, and for the right [The English scale the walls, crying St. 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 unready so? Bast. Unready? ay, Reig. 'Twas time, Hearing alarums at our and glad we 'scap'd so well. I trow, to wake, and leave our beds, chamber doors. Alen. Of all exploits, since first I follow'd arins, Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprize More venturous, or desperate than this. Bast. I think, this Talbot is a fiend of hell. Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure favour him. Alen. Here cometh Charles; I marvel, hove 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? At all times will you have my power alike? This sudden mischief never could have fall'n, Char. Duke of Alençon, this was your default; That, being captain of the watch to-night, As that whereof I had the government, Reig. And so was mine, my Lord. Char. And, for myself, most part of all this night, Within her quarter, and mine own precinct, Then how, or which way, should they first break in? Puc. Question, my Lords, no the case, further of How, or which way; 'tis sure they found some place But weakly guarded where the breach was made. Alarum. Enter an English Soldier crying, a Talbot! a Talbot! They fly, leaving their clothes behind.. Sold. I'll be so bold to take what they have left. The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword; For I have loaden me with many spoils, Using no other weapon but his name. SCENE H.. Orleans. Within the town. [Exit. Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain, and Others. Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled, 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 pay'd my vow unto his soul; For every drop of blood was drawn from him, There hath at least five Frenchmen dy'd to-night, And, that hereafter ages may behold. 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, 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, Rons'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. 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 running, Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves, That could not live asunder day or night. 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 this acts So much applauded through the realm of France? Tal. Here is the Talbot; Who would speak with him? Mess. The virtuous Lady, Countess of Au vergne, With modesty admiring thy renown, By me entreats, great Lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe To visit her poor castle where she lies; |