The Same. Before one of the Gates. | |
| |
Alarum. Skirmishings. Enter TALBOT, pursuing the DAUPHIN; drives him in, and exit: then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her, and exit after them. Then re-enter TALBOT. | |
| Tal. Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? | |
| Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; | 4 |
| A woman clad in armour chaseth them. | |
| |
Re-enter JOAN LA PUCELLE. | |
| Here, here she comes. I’ll have a bout with thee: | |
| Devil, or devil’s dam, I’ll conjure thee: | 8 |
| Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch, | |
| And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv’st. | |
| Joan. Come, come; ’tis only I that must disgrace thee. [They fight. | |
| Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail? | 12 |
| My breast I’ll burst with straining of my courage, | |
| And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder, | |
| But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet. [They fight again. | |
| Joan. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come: | 16 |
| I must go victual Orleans forthwith. [A short alarum; then LA PUCELLE enters the town with Soldiers. | |
| O’ertake me if thou canst; I scorn thy strength. | |
| Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-starved men; | |
| Help Salisbury to make his testament: | 20 |
| This day is ours, as many more shall be. [Exit. | |
| 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, | 24 |
| Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists: | |
| So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome stench, | |
| Are from their hives and houses driven away. | |
| They call’d us for our fierceness English dogs; | 28 |
| Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. [A short alarum. | |
| Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight, | |
| Or tear the lions out of England’s coat; | |
| Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions’ stead: | 32 |
| Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf, | |
| Or horse or oxen from the leopard, | |
| As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves. [Alarum. Another skirmish. | |
| It will not be: retire into your trenches: | 36 |
| You all consented unto Salisbury’s death, | |
| For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. | |
| Pucelle is entered into Orleans | |
| In spite of us or aught that we could do. | 40 |
| O! would I were to die with Salisbury. | |
| The shame hereof will make me hide my head. [Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt TALBOT and his Forces, &c. | |
