Scene Two

[France. Before Orleans]

Sound a Flourish.

Enter Charles, Alençon, and Reignier, marching with Drum and Soldiers.

Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens So in the earth, to this day is not known. Late did he shine upon the English side; Now we are victors; upon us he smiles. What towns of any moment but we have? At pleasure here we lie near Orleans;

Otherwhiles the famish'd English, like pale ghosts, Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.

8

Alen. They want their porridge and their fat bullbeeves:

Either they must be dieted like mules

And have their provender tied to their mouths,
Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.

12

Reig. Let's raise the siege: why live we idly here? Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear: Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury, And he may well in fretting spend his gall; Nor men nor money hath he to make war.

16

Char. Sound, sound alarum! we will rush on them.

Now for the honour of the forlorn French!

Him I forgive my death that killeth me

20

When he sees me go back one foot or fly.

Exeunt.

Here Alarum; they are beaten back by the English,

with great loss.

Scene Two S. d. Flourish: trumpet blast

1 Mars his true moving: Mars' exact movement; cf. n.

7 Otherwhiles: at times

17 Nor: neither

14 wont: were wont 18 alarum: call to arms

Enter Charles, Alençon, and Reignier.

Char. Who ever saw the like? what men have I! Dogs! cowards! dastards! I would ne'er have fled But that they left me 'midst my enemies.

Reig. Salisbury is a desperate homicide;

He fighteth as one weary of his life:
The other lords, like lions wanting food,

24

Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.

28

Alen. Froissart, a countryman of ours, records,

England all Olivers and Rowlands bred

During the time Edward the Third did reign.
More truly now may this be verified;

32

For none but Samsons and Goliases

It sendeth forth to skirmish.

One to ten!

Lean raw-bon'd rascals! who would e'er suppose
They had such courage and audacity?

36

Char. Let's leave this town; for they are harebrain'd slaves,

And hunger will enforce them to be more eager:

Of old I know them; rather with their teeth

The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege. 40
Reig. I think, by some odd gimmors or device,
Their arms are set like clocks, still to strike on;
Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do.
By my consent, we'll e'en let them alone.
Alen. Be it so.

Enter the Bastard of Orleans.

44

Bast. Where's the prince Dauphin? I have news for him.

Char. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.

28 hungry: stimulating hunger

30 Olivers and Rowlands: knights like the best who followed Char 33 Goliases: Goliaths (Golias is the Latin form) 42 still: continually

le:nagne

41 gimmors: mechanical joints

Bast. Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd:

Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?

Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand:

A holy maid hither with me I bring,

Which by a vision sent to her from heaven
Ordained is to raise this tedious siege,

And drive the English forth the bounds of France.
The spirit of deep prophecy she hath,

Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome;

What's past and what's to come she can descry.
Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words,
For they are certain and unfallible.

12

52

56

Char. Go, call her in. [Exit Bastard.] But first, to try her skill,

Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place:

Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern:
By this means shall we sound what skill she hath.

Enter Joan Pucelle [with Bastard].

60

Reig. Fair maid, is 't thou wilt do these wondrous feats?

54

Joan. Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to beguile me?

68

Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from behind;
I know thee well, though never seen before.
Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me:
In private will I talk with thee apart.
Stand back, you lords, and give us leave a while.
Reig. She takes upon her bravely at first dash.
Joan. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daugh-
ter,

My wit untrain'd in any kind of art.

48 cheer appall'd: mood dejected

72

56 nine sibyls; cf. n.

Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd
To shine on my contemptible estate:

Lo! whilst I waited on my tender lambs,
And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks.
God's mother deigned to appear to me,
And in a vision full of majesty

Will'd me to leave my base vocation
And free my country from calamity:
Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success;
In complete glory she reveal'd herself;
And, whereas I was black and swart before,
With those clear rays which she infus'd on me,
That beauty am I bless'd with which you see.
Ask me what question thou canst possible
And I will answer unpremeditated:
My courage try by combat, if thou dar'st,
And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex.
Resolve on this, thou shalt be fortunate

If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.

Char. Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high terms. Only this proof I'll of thy valour make,

In single combat thou shalt buckle with me,
And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true;
Otherwise I renounce all confidence.

96

Joan. I am prepar'd: here is my keen-edg'd sword, Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side; The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's church

yard,

Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.

100

Char. Then come, o' God's name; I fear no woman. Joan. And, while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man. Here they fight, and Joan la Pucelle overcomes.

93 high terms: lofty language

99 Deck'd: adorned

95 buckle: contend

Char. Stay, stay thy hands! thou art an Amazon,

And fightest with the sword of Deborah.

104

Joan. Christ's mother helps me, else I were too weak.

Char. Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help

me:

Impatiently I burn with thy desire;

My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd.
Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so,
Let me thy servant and not sovereign be;
'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus.

Joan. I must not yield to any rites of love,
For my profession's sacred from above:
When I have chased all thy foes from hence,
Then will I think upon a recompense.

108

112

116

Char. Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall.

Reig. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.

Alen. Doubtless he shrives this woman to her

smock;

Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech.

120

Reig. Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean?

Alen. 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?

Joan. Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants! Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard.

105 sword of Deborah; cf. n.

121 mean: moderation

124

110 Pucelle; cf. n.