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Retreat: Excursions. Enter, from the Town, LA
Pucelle, Alençon, CHARLES, &c. and Exeunt,
[Dies, and is carried off in his Chair.
Alarum: Enter Talbot, BURGUNDY, and Others.
Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again!
Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
now? I think, her old familiar is asleep: Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his
What, all a-mort? Roüen hangs her head for grief,
Bur. What wills lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy.
Tal. But yet, before we go, let's not forget The noble duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
take some order -] i. e. make some necessary dispo
But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen,
The Plains near the City.
Enter Charles, the Bastard, Alençon, La Pu
CELLE, and Forces.
Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident,
Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto,
Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies,
Alen. We'll set thy statue in some holy place, And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint; Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.
Puc. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words, We will entice the duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot, and to follow us.
Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for Henry's warriors; Nor should that nation boast it so with us,
But be extirped from our provinces.
Puc. Your honours shall perceive how I will work, To bring this matter to the wished end.
[Drums heard. Hark! by the sound of drum, you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. An English March. Enter, and pass over at a dis
tance, TALBOT and his Forces. There goes
the Talbot, with his colours spread; And all the troops of English after him.
A French March. Enter the Duke of BURGUNDY
and Forces. Now, in the rearward, comes the duke, and his; Fortune, in favour, makes him lag behind. Summon a parley, we will talk with him.
[A Parley sounded. Char. A parley with the duke of Burgundy. Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy coun
tryman. Bur. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am march
ing hence. Char. Speak, Pucelle; and enchant him with thy
words. Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious.
Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, And see the cities and the towns defac'd
? But be extirped-] To extirp is to root out.
expuls'd-] i. e. expelled.
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe!
Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words,
thee, Doubting thy birth and lawful
progeny. Who join'st thou with, but with a lordly nation, That will not trust thee, but for profit's sake? When Talbot hath set footing once in France, And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill, Who then, but English Henry, will be lord, And thou be thrust out, like a fugitive? Call we to mind,—and mark but this, for proof;— Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe? And was he not in England prisoner? But, when they heard he was thine enemy, They set him free, without his ransome paid, In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends. See then! thou fight'st against thy countrymen, And join'st with them will be thy slaughter-men. Come, come, return; return, thou wand'ring lord; Charles, and the rest, will take thee in their arms. Bur. I am vanquished; these haughty' words of
these haughty-] Haughty does not mean violent in this place, but elevated, high-spirited.
Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot,
my power of men are yours; So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee. Puc. Done like a Frenchman; turn, and turn
again! Char. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes
us fresh. Bast. And doth beget new courage in our breasts.
Alen. Pucelle hath bravely plaied her part in this, And doth deserve a coronet of gold. Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our
powers; And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt.
Paris. A Room in the Palace.
Enter King HenRY, GLOSTER, and other Lords,
VERNON, BAsset, &c. To them Talbot, and some of his Officers. Tal. My gracious prince,--and honourable peers, Hearing of your arrival in this realm, I have a while given truce unto my wars, To do my duty to my sovereign: In sign whereof, this arm—that hath reclaim'd To your obedience fifty fortresses, Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength,
· Done like a Frenchman; turn, and turn again!] The inconstancy of the French was always the subject of satire. I have read a dissertation written to prove that the index of the wind upon our steeples was made in form of a cock, to ridicule the French for their frequent changes. Johnson.