Ordained is to raise this tedious siege ; Dau. Go, call her in; but firft, to try her skill, SCENE VI. Enter Joan la Pucelle Reig. FAIR maid, is't thou wilt do these wondrous feats ? Pucel. Reignier, is't thou that thinkeft to beguile me? Be not amaz'd: there's nothing hid from me: Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile. Heav'n, and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, That That beauty am I bleft with, which you fee. My courage try by combat, if thou dar'ft, Pucel. I am prepar'd: here is my keen-edg'd fword, Dau. Then come o'God's name, for I fear no woman. Pucel. And while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man. [Here they fight, and Joan la Pucelle overcomes. Dau. Stay, ftay thy hands, thou art an Amazon; And fighteft with the fword of Debora. [weak. Pucel. Chrift's mother helps me, elfe I were too Dau. Who-c'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must Impatiently I burn with thy defire; [help me: My heart and hands thou haft at once subdu'd; Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, Let me thy fervant and not Sovereign be, Dau. Mean time, look gracious on thy proftrate thrall. Reig. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. Alan. Doubtlefs, he fhrives this woman to her fmock; Elfe ne'er could he fo long protract his fpeech. Reig. Shall we difturb him, fince he keeps no mean? Alan. Alan. He may mean more than we poor men do know: These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues. Reig. My lord, where are you? what devise you on? Shall we give over Orleans or no? Pucel. Why, no I fay; diftruftful recreants! Nor yet St. Philip's daughters, were like thee. Alan. Leave off delays, and let us raise the fiege. Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd. Glou. I The Tower-gates, in LONDON. Enter Gloucefter, with his Serving-men. Am this day come to furvey the Tower; Since Henry's death, I fear, there is conveyance. P 4 Where Where be these warders, that they wait not here? Open the gates. 'Tis Gloucester, that calls. 1 Ward. Who's there, that knocketh so imperiously? 1 Man. It is the noble Duke of Gloucester. 2 Ward. Who e'er he be, you may not be let in. 1 Man. Villains, anfwer you fo the Lord Protector? 1 Ward. The Lord protect him! fo we answer him; We do no otherwise than we are will'd. Glou. Who willed you? or whofe will ftands, but There's none Protector of the realm but I. [mine? Break up the gates, I'll be your warrantize; Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms? Gloucester's men rush at the Tower-gates, and Woodvile the Lieutenant fpeaks within. Wood. What noife is this? what traitors have we here ? Glou Lieutenant, is it you, whofe voice I hear? Open the gates; here's Glofter, that would enter. Wood. Have patience, noble Duke; I may not open; The Cardinal of Winchefter forbids; From him I have exprefs commandment, Glou. Faint-hearted Woodvile, prizeft him 'fore me? Serv. Open the gates there to the Lord Protector; We'll burit them open, if you come not quickly. Enter to the Protector at the Tower-gates, Winchester and his men in tawny coats. Win. How now, ambitious Umpire, what means [fhut out? Glou. Piel'd Pricft, doft thou command me be this? * Pield Prieft,] Alluding to his fhaven Crown, a Metaphor from a peel'd Orange. Mr. Pope. Win. I do, thou most ufurping proditor, Glou. Stand back, thou manifest conspirator; Win. Nay, ftand thou back, I will not budge a foot: This be Damafcus, be thou cursed Cain, To flay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt. Glou, I will not flay thee, but I'll drive thee back; Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing cloth, I'll ufe to carry thee out of this place. Win. Do, what thou dar'ft; I beard thee to thy face. Glou. What? am I dar'd, and bearded to my face? Draw, men, for all this privileged place. Blue coats to tawny. Prieft, beware thy beard;. I mean to tug it, and to cuff you foundly. Under my feet I'll ftamp thy Cardinal's hat : In fpight of Pope or dignities of Church, Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down. Win. Glou'fter, thou'lt anfwer this before the Pope. Glou. Winchefter Goofe! I cry, a rope, a rope. Now beat them hence, why do you let them stay? Thee I'll chafe hence, thou Wolf in Sheep's array. Out, tawny coats; out, fcarlet hypocrite! Here Gloucefter's men beat out the Cardinal's; and enter in the hurly-burly the Mayor of London, and his Officers. Mayor. Fy, lords; that you, being supreme magiftrates, Thus contumeliously should break the peace! wrongs: Here's Beauford, that regards not God nor King, Win. Here's Glofter too, a foe to citizens, P 5 One |