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S CE N E X. Here an alarm again;
and Talbot pursueth 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, chaseth them.
Enter Pucelle. Here, here, she 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 straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'ft. Pucel. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee:
[They fight. * Talbot, farewel, thy hour is not yet come ; I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
[Ă short alarm. Then enter the town with soldiers. O’ertake me if thou canst, I scorn thy strength. Go, go, chear up thy hunger-starved men, Help Salisbury to make his teftament: This day is ours, as many more shall 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 fhe lists. So bees with smoak, and doves with noisome stench, Are from their hives and houses driv'n away. They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs, Now like their whelps we crying run away.
[ A short alarni, Hark, countrymen ! either renew the fight, Or tear the lions out of England's coat : Renounce your foil, give theep in lions' stead : Sheep run not half so tim'rous from the wolf, Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
* They fight.
Tal. Heaven's, can you suffer hell so to prevail?
As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.
[Alarm. Here another skirmish. It will not be : retire into your trenches: You all consented unto Salisbury's death, For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans, In spight of us, or ought that we cou'd do. O, would I were to die with Salisbury ! The shame hereof will make me hide
[Exit Talbot. [Alarm, Retreat, Flourish.
Enter on the wall, Pucelle, Dauphin, Reignier, Alan
fon, and Soldiers. Pucel. Advance our waving colours on the walls, Rescu'd is Orleans from the English wolves : Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.
Dau. Divinelt creature, bright Astrea's daughter, How shall I honour thee for this success! Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens *, That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the next. France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess ! Recover'd is the town of Orleans ; More lessed hap did ne'er befal our state.
Reig. Why ring not out the bells throughout the town! Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires, And feast and banquet in the open streets, To celebrate the joy that God hath giv'n us.
Alan. All France will be replete with mirth and joy, When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.
Dau. 'Tis Joan; not we, by whom the day is won:
* The gardens of Adonis were never represented under any local de. feription, nor is any such thing implied in this place. They were on ly beds of earth put into poriable cases of Glver or cther matter, in which were raised such flowers and herbs as were of quick growth and short continuance, the production and maturity of them being also haftened by artificial means. Upon this quickness of growth the allufion here is founded : though anciently the gardens of Adonis was a proverbial expression to fignity tranfitory Aceting pleasures, and persons also of a flight trifling account, Şce Eraf. adar. Oxford Editor.
For which I will divide my crown with her,
A C Τ ΙΙ.
S CE N E I.
If any noise or soldier you perceive
guard. Cent. Serjeant, you shall. Thus are poor servitors (When others sleep upon their quiet beds) Constrain’d to watch in darkness, rain, and cold. Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy, with scaling
ladders. Their drums beating a dead march.
Bed. Coward of France ! how much. he wrongs his
But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure ?
Tat. A maid, they say.
Bur. Pray God, the prove not masculine ere long !
Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with spirits; God is our fortress, in whose conqu’ring name Let us refolve to scale their finty bulwarks.
Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot, we will follow thee.
Tal. Not all together: better far I guess,
Bed. Agreed ; I'll to yon corner.
assault. [The English scaling the walls, cry, St. George !
A Talbot !
S CE N E II. The French leap o'er the walls in their shirts. Enter',
several ways, Bastard, Alanfon, Reignier, half ready and balf unready. Alan. How now, my Lords? what, all unready fo ? Baft. Unready? I, and glad we 'scap'd so well.
Reig. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake, and leave our Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors. [beds,
Alan. Of all exploits, fince first I follow'd arms,
Baft. I think this Talbot is a fiend of hell.
Enter Dauphin and Joan.
Dau. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame?
Pucel. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend? At all times will you have my
i'r alike? Sleeping, or waking, must I still prevail?
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?
Dau. Duke of Alanson, this was your default,
Alan. Had all your quarters been as safely kept,
Bast. Mine was secure.
Dau. And for my self, most part of all this night,
Pucel. Question my Lords, no further of the case, How, or which way ; 'tis sure they found some part But weakly guarded, where the breach was made; And now there rests no other shift but this, To gather our foldiers, scatter'd and dispers’d, And lay new platforms, to indamage them. [Exeunt.
SCENE IH. Within the walls of Orleans. Alarm. Enter a Soldier crying, A Talbot! A Talbot!
the French fly, leaving their cloaths bebind. Sol. I'll be so bold to take what they have left: The cry of Talbot serves me for a 1word; For I have loaden me with many spoils, Using no other weapon but his name. [Exit.
Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy. Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled, Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth.