Then broke I from the Officers that led me,
And with my Nails digg'd Stones out of the Ground,
To hurl at the beholders of my Shame,
My grifly Countenance made others fly,
None durft come near, for fear of fudden Death.
In Iron Walls they deem'd me not secure:
So great fear of my Name 'mongst them was spread,
That they fuppos'd I could rend Bars of Steel,
And fpurn in pieces Posts of Adamant.
Wherefore a guard of chefen Shot I had;
They walk'd about me every Minute while;
And if I did but ftir out of my Bed,
Ready they were to fhoot me to the Heart.
Enter Boy with a Linftock.
Sal. I grieve to hear what Torments you endur'd,
But we will be reveng'd fufficiently.
Now it is Supper time in Orleans:
Here, through this Grate, I can count every one,
And view the Frenchmen how they fortifie:
Let us look in, the fight will much delight thee:
Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glanfdale,
Let me have your exprefs Opinions,
Where is beft place to make our Batt'ry next?
Gar. I think at the North Gate, for there ftand, Lords. Glan. And I here, at the Bulwark of the Bridge.
Tal. For ought I fee, this City must be famish'd, Or with light Skirmishes enfeebled.
[Here they fhoot, and Salisbury falls down. Sal. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched Sinners. Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, woful Man. Tal. What chance is this that fuddenly hath croft us? Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canft, speak: How far'ft thou, Mirror of all Martial Men? One of thy Eyes, and thy Cheeks fide ftruck off? Accurfed Tower, accurfed fatal Hand That hath contriv'd this woful Tragedy. In thirteen Battels, Salisbury o'ercame: Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the Wars. Whilft any Trump did found, or Drum ftruck up, His Sword did ne'er leave striking in the Field.
Yet liv' thou, Salisbury? though thy Speech doth fail,
One Eye thou haft to look to Heaven for Grace.
The Sun with one Eye vieweth all the World.
Heaven be thou Gracious to none alive,
If Salisbury wants Mercy at thy Hands.
Bear hence his Body, I will help to bury it,
Sir Thomas Gargrave, haft thou any Life?
Speak unto Talbot, nay, look up to him.
Salisbury, chear thy Spirit with this Comfort,
Thou shalt not die whiles-
He beckons with his Hand, and fmiles on me:
As who fhould fay, When I am dead and gone,~
Remember to avenge me on the French.
Plantagenet I will, and, Nero like, will
Play on the Lute, beholding the Towns burn:
Wretched fhall France be only in my Name.
[Here an Alarm, and it Thunders and Lightensi-
What ftir is this? What Tumult's in the Heavens?
Whence cometh this Alarum, and the Noife?
Enter a Meffenger,
Meff. My Lord, my Lord, the French have gather'd head. The Dauphin, with one Foan la Pucelle join'd, A holy Prophetess, new risen up,
Is come with a great Power, to raife the Siege.
[Here Salisbury lifteth himself up, and groans, Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groa It irks his Heart he cannot be reveng❜d. Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you.
Puzel or Puffel, Dolphin or Dog-fish,
Your Hearts I'll ftamp out with my Horfes heels,
And make a Quagmire of your mingled Brains.
Convey me Salisbury into his Tent,
And then we'll try, what these daftard Frenchmen dare.
[Exit. Here an Alarum again; and Talbot purfueth 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.
A Woman clad in Armour chafeth them.
Here, here the 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 ftraightway give thy Soul to him thou ferv'ft.
Pucel. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee.
[They fight.
Tal. Heavens, can you fuffer Hell fo to prevail?
My Breaft I'll burft with ftraining of my Courage,
And from my
Shoulders crack my Arms afunder,
But I will chaftife this high-minded Strumpet,
[They fight again. Pucel. Talbot farewel, thy hour is not yet come,
I must go Victual Orleans forthwith,
A fhort Alarum: Then enter the Town with Soldiers.
O'ertake me if thou canft, I fcorn thy strength.
Go, go, chear up thy hunger-ftarved Men,
Help Salisbury to make his Teftament,
This Day is ours, as many more fhall 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 the lifts:
So Bees with finoak, and Doves with noifom stench,
Are from their Hives and Houses driven away.
They call'd us, for our fierceness, English Dogs,
Now like the Whelps, we crying run away.
Hark Countrymen, either renew the fight,
Or tear the Lions out of England's Coat;
Renounce your Soil, give Sheep in Lions ftead:
Sheep run not half fo treacherous from the Wolf,
Or Horfe or Oxen from the Leopard,
As you fly from your oft-fubdued Slaves.
[Alarum. Here another Skirmish.
It will not be, retire into your Trenches:
You all confented unto Salisbury's Death,
For none would ftrike a ftroke in his Revenge.
Pucelle is entred into Orleans,
In fpight of us, or ought that we could do.
O would I were to die with Salisbury.
The fhame hereof will make me hide
[Alarum, Retreat, Flourish.
Enter on the Wall, Pucelle, Dauphin, Reignier, Alenfon, and Soldiers."
Pucel. Advance our waving Colours on the Walls,
Refcu'd is Orleans from the English Wolves:
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her Word.
Dau. Divineft Creature, bright Aftrea's Daughter,
How fhall I honour thee for this Success!!
Thy Promifes are like Adonis Garden,
That one Day bloom'd, and fruitful were the next.
France, Triumph in thy glorious Prophetess,
Recover'd is the Town of Orleans;
More bleffed hap did ne'er befal our State.
Reig. Why ring not out the Bells aloud,
Throughout the Town?
Dauphin, command the Citizens make Bonfires,
And feaft and banquet in the open Streets,
To celebrate the Joy that God hath given us.
Alen. All France will be repleat with Mirth and Joy,
When they shall hear how we have play'd the Men.
Dan. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the Day is won
For which, I will divide my Crown with her,
And all the Priests and Fryers in my Realm,
Shall in Proceffion fing her endless Praise.
A ftatelier Pyramid to her I'll rear,
Than Rhodope's or Memphis ever was.
In memory of her when he is dead,
Her Afhes, in an Urn more gracious
Than the Rich-jewel'd Coffer of Darius,
Tranfported: fhall be, at high Festivals,
Before the Kings and Queens of France.
No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry,
But Joan la Pucelle fhall be France's Saint.
Come in, and let us Banquet Royally,
After this golden Day of Victory.
Enter a Serjeant of a Band, with two Centinels.
Ser. Sirs take your places and be vigilant:
If any Noife or Soldier you perceive
• Near to the Wall, by fome apparent fign
Let us have knowledge at the Court of Guard.
Cent. Serjeant, you fhall. Thus are poor Servitors (When others fleep upon their quiet Reds)
Conftrain'd to watch in Darknefs, Rain, and Cold.
Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy, with scaling
Ladders. Their Drums beating a Dead March.
Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,
By whofe approach, the Regions of Artois,
Walloon, and Picardy, are Friends to us:
This happy Night, the Frenchmen are fecure,
Having all day carous'd and banquetted.
Embrace we then this opportunity,
As fitting beft to quittance their deceit,
Contriv'd by Art, and baleful Sorcery.
Bed. Coward of France, how much he wrongs his Fame, Defpairing of his own Arms fortitude,
To join with Witches, and the help of Hell.
Bur. Traitors have never other Company.
But what's that Pucel, whom they term so pure?
Tal. A Maid, they fay.
Bed. A Maid? And be fo Martial?
Bur. Pray God, the prove not Masculine ere long, If underneath the Standard of the French
She carry Armour, as fhe hath begun.
Tal. Well, let them practife and converfe with Spirits,
God is our Fortrefs, in whofe Conquering Name
Let us refolve to scale their flinty Bulwarks.
Bed. Afcend, 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,
The other yet may rise against their Force.
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