Orleans. Within the Town. |
|
Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain, and Others. |
Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled, |
Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. |
Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit. [Retreat sounded. |
Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury, |
And here advance it in the market-place, |
The middle centre of this cursed town. |
Now have I paid my vow unto his soul; |
For every drop of blood was drawn from him |
There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night. |
And that hereafter ages may behold |
What ruin happen'd in revenge of him, |
Within their chiefest temple I'll erect |
A tomb wherein his corse shall be interr'd: |
Upon the which, that every one may read, |
Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans, |
The treacherous manner of his mournful death, |
And what a terror he had been to France. |
But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, |
I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace, |
His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc, |
Nor any of his false confederates. |
Bed. 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began, |
Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds, |
They did amongst the troops of armed men |
Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field. |
Bur. Myself—as far as I could well discern |
For smoke and dusky vapours of the night— |
Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin and his trull, |
When arm in arm they both came swiftly running, |
Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves |
That could not live asunder day or night. |
After that things are set in order here, |
We'll follow them with all the power we have. |
|
Enter a Messenger. |
Mess. All hail, my lords! Which of this princely train |
Call ye the war-like Talbot, for his acts |
So much applauded through the realm of France? |
Tal. Here is the Talbot: who would speak with him? |
Mess. The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne, |
With modesty admiring thy renown, |
By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe |
To visit her poor castle where she lies, |
That she may boast she hath beheld the man |
Whose glory fills the world with loud report. |
Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our wars |
Will turn into a peaceful comic sport, |
When ladies crave to be encounter'd with. |
You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit. |
Tal. Ne'er trust me then; for when a world of men |
Could not prevail with all their oratory, |
Yet hath a woman's kindness over-rul'd: |
And therefore tell her I return great thanks, |
And in submission will attend on her. |
Will not your honours bear me company? |
Bed. No, truly; it is more than manners will; |
And I have heard it said, unbidden guests |
Are often welcomest when they are gone. |
Tal. Well then, alone,—since there's no remedy,— |
I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. |
Come hither, captain. [Whispers.] You perceive my mind. |
Capt. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. [Exeunt. |
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