France. Before Roan. |
|
Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, disguised, and Soldiers dressed like countrymen, with sacks upon their backs. |
Joan. These are the city gates, the gates of Roan, |
Through which our policy must make a breach: |
Take heed, be wary how you place your words; |
Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men |
That come to gather money for their corn. |
If we have entrance,—as I hope we shall,— |
And that we find the slothful watch but weak, |
I'll by a sign give notice to our friends, |
That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them. |
First Sold. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, |
And we be lords and rulers over Roan; |
Therefore we'll knock. [Knocks. |
Guard. [Within.] Qui est là? |
Joan. Paisans, pauvres gens de France: |
Poor market-folks that come to sell their corn. |
Guard. [Opening the gates.] Enter, go in; the market-bell is rung. |
Joan. Now, Roan, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground. [JOAN LA PUCELLE, &c., enter the city. |
|
Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, ALENÇON, and Forces. |
Char. Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem! |
And once again we'll sleep secure in Roan. |
Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle and her practisants; |
Now she is there how will she specify |
Where is the best and safest passage in? |
Alen. By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower; |
Which, once discern'd, shows that her meaning is, |
No way to that, for weakness, which she enter'd. |
|
Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE on a battlement, holding out a torch burning. |
Joan. Behold! this is the happy wedding torch |
That joineth Roan unto her countrymen, |
But burning fatal to the Talbotites! [Exit. |
Bast. See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend, |
The burning torch in yonder turret stands. |
Char. Now shine it like a comet of revenge, |
A prophet to the fall of all our foes! |
Alen. Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends; |
Enter, and cry 'The Dauphin!' presently, |
And then do execution on the watch. [They enter the town. |
|
Alarum. Enter TALBOT in an Excursion. |
Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears, |
If Talbot but survive thy treachery. |
Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress, |
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, |
That hardly we escap'd the pride of France. [Exit. |
Alarum: Excursions. Enter from the town, |
BEDFORD, brought in sick in a chair. Enter |
TALBOT and BURGUNDY, and the English |
Forces. Then, enter on the walls, JOAN LA |
PUCELLE, CHARLES, the BASTARD OF |
ORLEANS, ALENÇON, and Others. |
Joan. Good morrow, gallants! Want ye corn for bread? |
I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast |
Before he'll buy again at such a rate. |
'Twas full of darnel; do you like the taste? |
Bur. Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtezan! |
I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own, |
And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. |
Char. Your Grace may starve perhaps, before that time. |
Bed. O! let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason! |
Joan. What will you do, good grey-beard? break a lance, |
And run a tilt at death within a chair? |
Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite, |
Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours! |
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age |
And twit with cowardice a man half dead? |
Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, |
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. |
Joan. Are you so hot, sir? Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace; |
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. [TALBOT and the rest consult together. |
God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker? |
Tal. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field? |
Joan. Belike your lordship takes us then for fools, |
To try if that our own be ours or no. |
Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate, |
But unto thee, Alençon, and the rest; |
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? |
Alen. Signior, no. |
Tal. Signior, hang! base muleters of France! |
Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls, |
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. |
Joan. Away, captains! let's get us from the walls; |
For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks. |
God be wi' you, my lord! we came but to tell you |
That we are here. [Exeunt JOAN LA PUCELLE, &c., from the Walls. |
Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be long, |
Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame! |
Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house,— |
Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France,— |
Either to get the town again, or die; |
And I, as sure as English Henry lives, |
And as his father here was conqueror, |
As sure as in this late-betrayed town |
Great Cœur-de-lion's heart was buried, |
So sure I swear to get the town or die. |
Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy vows. |
Tal. But, ere we go, regard this dying prince, |
The valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord, |
We will bestow you in some better place, |
Fitter for sickness and for crazy age. |
Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me: |
Here will I sit before the walls of Roan, |
And will be partner of your weal or woe. |
Bur. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you. |
Bed. Not to be gone from hence; for once I read, |
That stout Pendragon in his litter, sick, |
Came to the field and vanquished his foes: |
Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts, |
Because I ever found them as myself. |
Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast! |
Then be it so: heavens keep old Bedford safe! |
And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, |
But gather we our forces out of hand, |
And set upon our boasting enemy. [Exeunt all but BEDFORD and Attendants. |
|
Alarum: Excursions; in one of which, enter SIR JOHN FASTOLFE and a Captain. |
Cap. Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such haste? |
Fast. Whither away! to save myself by flight: |
We are like to have the overthrow again. |
Cap. What! will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot? |
Fast. Ay, |
All the Talbots in the world, to save my life. [Exit. |
Cap. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee! [Exit. |
Retreat: Excursions. Re-enter, from the town, JOAN LA PUCELLE, ALENÇON, CHARLES, &c., and exeunt, flying. |
Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when Heaven please, |
For I have seen our enemies' overthrow. |
What is the trust or strength of foolish man? |
They, that of late were daring with their scoffs |
Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. [Dies, and is carried off in his chair. |
|
Alarum. Re-enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and Others. |
Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again! |
This is a double honour, Burgundy: |
Yet heavens have glory for this victory! |
Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy |
Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects |
Thy noble deeds as valour's monument. |
Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now? |
I think her old familiar is asleep. |
Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks? |
What! all amort? Roan hangs her head for grief, |
That such a valiant company are fled. |
Now will we take some order in the town, |
Placing therein some expert officers, |
And then depart to Paris to the king; |
For there young Henry with his nobles lie. |
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, |
But see his exequies fulfill'd in Roan: |
A braver soldier never couched lance, |
A gentler heart did never sway in court; |
But kings and mightiest potentates must die, |
For that's the end of human misery. [Exeunt. |
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