Char.
Mars his true moving^{5 note}, even as in the heavens,

So in the earth, to this day is not known:
Late did he shine upon the English side:
Now we are victors upon us he smiles.
What towns of any moment, but we have?
At pleasure here we lie, near Orleans;
Otherwhiles, the famish'd English, like pale ghosts,
Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.

Alen.
They want their porridge, and their fat bull-beeves:
Either they must be dieted like mules,
And have their provender tyed to their mouths,
Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.

Reig.
Let's raise the siege; Why live we idly here?
Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear:
Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury;
And he may well in fretting spend his gall,
Nor men, nor money, hath he to make war.

Char.
Sound, sound alarum; we will rush on them.
Now for the honour of the forlorn French:—
Him I forgive my death, that killeth me,
When he sees me go back one foot, or fly. [Exeunt. Alarums; Excursions; afterwards a Retreat. Re-enter Charles, Alençon, Reignier, and Others.

Char.
Who ever saw the like? what men have I?—
Dogs! cowards! dastards!—I would ne'er have fled,
But that they left me 'midst my enemies.

Reig.
Salisbury is a desperate homicide;
He fighteth as one weary of his life.
The other lords, like lions wanting food,

Do rush upon us as their hungry prey^{6 note}

Alen.
Froissard, a countryman of ours, records,
England all Olivers and Rowlands bred^{7 note}

Char.
Let's leave this town; for they are hairbrain'd slaves,
And hunger will enforce them to be more eager^{8 note}

Reig.
I think, by some odd gimmals^{9 note}

Their arms are set, like clocks^{1 note}

Alen.
Be it so. Enter the Bastard of Orleans.

Bast.
Where's the prince Dauphin? I have news for him.

Char.
Bastard of Orleans^{2 note}

Bast.
Methinks, your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd^{3 note}

Char.
Go, call her in: [Exit Bastard.] But, first, to try her skill,
Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place:

Question her proudly, let thy looks be stern:—
By this means shall we sound what skill she hath. [Retires. Enter La Pucelle, Bastard of Orleans, and Others.

Reig.
Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these wond'rous feats?

Puc.
Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me?—
Where is the Dauphin?—come, come from behind:
I know thee well, though never seen before.
Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me:
In private will I talk with thee apart;—
Stand back, you lords, and give us leave a while.

Reig.
She takes upon her bravely at first dash.

Puc.
Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter,
My wit untrain'd in any kind of art.
Heaven and our Lady gracious, hath it pleas'd
To shine on my contemptible estate^{6 note}

:
Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs,
And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks,
God's mother deigned to appear to me:
And, in a vision full of majesty^{7 note}
,
Will'd me to leave my base vocation,
And free my country from calamity:
Her aid she promis'd, and assur'd success:
In cómplete glory she reveal'd herself;
And, whereas I was black and swart before,
With those clear rays which she infus'd on me,

That beauty am I bless'd with, which you may see^{8 note}.
Ask me what question thou canst possible,
And I will answer unpremeditated:
My courage try by combat, if thou dar'st,
And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex.
Resolve on this^{9 note}

: Thou shalt be fortunate,
If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.

Char.
Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high terms;
Only this proof I'll of thy valour make,—
In single combat thou shalt buckle with me;
And, if thou vanquishest, thy words are true;
Otherwise, I renounce all confidence.

Puc.
I am prepar'd: here is my keen-edg'd sword,
Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side^{1 note}

Char.
Then come o' God's name, I fear no woman.

Puc.
And, while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man. [They fight.

Char.
Stay, stay, thy hands; thou art an Amazon,
And fightest with the sword of Deborah.

Puc.
Christ's mother helps me, else I were too weak.

Char.
Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me:
Impatiently I burn with thy desire^{3 note}

Puc.
I must not yield to any rites of love,
For my profession's sacred from above:
When I have chased all thy foes from hence,
Then will I think upon a recompense.

Char.
Mean time look gracious on thy prostrate thrall.

Reig.
My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.

Alen.
Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock;
Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech.

Reig.
Shall we disturb, him, since he keeps no mean?

Alen.
He may mean more than we poor men do know:

These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.

Reig.
My lord, where are you? what devise you on?
Shall we give over Orleans, or no?

Puc.
Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants!
Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard.

Char.
What she says, I'll confirm; we'll fight it out.

Puc.
Assign'd am I to be the English scourge.
This night the siege assuredly I'll raise:
Expect Saint Martin's summer^{4 note}, halcyon days,
Since I have entered into these wars.
Glory is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself,
Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought^{5 note}

With Henry's death, the English circle ends;
Dispersed are the glories it included.
Now am I like that proud insulting ship,
Which Cæsar and his fortune bare at once^{6 note}
.

Char.
Was Mahomet inspired with a dove^{7 note}?
Thou with an eagle art inspired then.
Helen, the mother of great Constantine,
Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters^{8 note}, were like thee.
Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth,
How may I reverently worship thee enough^{9 note}

Alen.
Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.

Reig.
Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours;
Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd.

Char.
Presently we'll try:—Come, let's away about it:
No prophet will I trust, if she prove false. [Exeunt. SCENE III. London. Hill before the Tower. Enter, at the Gates, the Duke of Gloster, with his Serving-men, in blue Coats.

Glo.
I am come to survey the Tower this day;
Since Henry's death, I fear, there is conveyance^{1 note}

1 Ward. [Within.]
Who is there that knocks so imperiously?

1 Serv.
It is the noble duke of Gloster.

2 Ward. [Within.]
Whoe'er he be, you may not be let in.

1 Serv.
Answer you so the lord protector, villains?

1 Ward. [Within.]
The Lord protect him! so we answer him:
We do no otherwise than we are will'd.

Glo.
Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine?
There's none protector of the realm, but I.—

Break up the gates^{2 note}

Wood. [Within.]
What noise is this? what traitors have we here?

Glo.
Lieutenant, is it you, whose voice I hear?
Open the gates; here's Gloster that would enter.

Wood. [Within.]
Have patience, noble duke; I may not open;
The cardinal of Winchester forbids:
From him I have express commandement,
That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in.

Glo.
Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him, 'fore me?
Arrogant Winchester? that haughty prelate,
Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook?
Thou art no friend to God, or to the king:
Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly.

1 Serv.
Open the gates unto the lord protector;
Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.

Enter Winchester, attended by a Train of Servants in Tawny Coats^{3 note}

Win.
How now, ambitious Humphry? what means this^{4 note}?

Glo.
Peel'd priest^{5 note}

Win.
I do, thou most usurping proditor,
And not protector of the king or realm.

Glo.
Stand back, thou manifest conspirator,
Thou, that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord;
Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin^{6 note}

If thou proceed in this thy insolence.

Win.
Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot;
This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain^{8 note}

Glo.
I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back:
Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing-cloth
I'll use, to carry thee out of this place.

Win.
Do what thou dar'st; I beard thee to thy face.

Glo.
What? am I dar'd, and bearded to my face?—
Draw, men, for all this privileged place;
Blue-coats to tawny-coats. Priest, beware your beard; [Gloster and his Men attack the Bishop.
I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly:
Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat;
In spite of pope or dignities of church,
Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down.

Win.
Gloster, thou'lt answer this before the pope.

Glo.
Winchester goose^{9 note}! I cry—a rope! a rope^{1 note}!—
Now beat them hence, Why do you let them stay?—
Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array.—
Out, tawny coats!—out, scarlet hypocrite^{2 note}! Here a great Tumult. In the midst of it, Enter the Mayor of London^{3 note}, and Officers.

May.
Fye, lords! that you, being supreme magistrates,
Thus contumeliously should break the peace!

Glo.
Peace, mayor; thou know'st little of my wrongs:
Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king,
Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use.

Win.
Here's Gloster too, a foe to citizens^{4 note};
One that still motions war and never peace,
O'ercharging your free purses with large fines;
That seeks to overthrow religion,
Because he is protector of the realm;
And would have armour here out of the Tower,
To crown himself king, and suppress the prince.

Glo.
I will not answer thee with words, but blows. [Here they skirmish again.

May.
Nought rests for me, in this tumultuous strife,

But to make open proclamation:—
Come, officer; as loud as e'er thou can'st. Off.

All manner of men, assembled here in arms this day, against God's peace and the king's, we charge and command you, in his highness' name, to repair to your several dwelling-places; and not to wear, handle, or use, any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, upon pain of death.

Glo.
Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law:
But we shall meet, and break our minds at large.

Win.
Gloster, we'll meet; to thy dear cost, be sure:^{5 note}
Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work.

May.
I'll call for clubs, if you will not away^{6 note}

Glo.
Mayor, farewell: thou dost but what thou may'st.

Win.
Abominable Gloster! guard thy head;
For I intend to have it, ere long. [Exeunt.

May.
See the coast clear'd, and then we will depart.—
Good God! that nobles should such stomachs^{7 note}

SCENE IV. France. Before Orleans. Enter, on the Walls, the Master-Gunner and his Son.

M. Gun.
Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is besieg'd;
And how the English have the suburbs won.

Son.
Father, I know; and oft have shot at them,
Howe'er, unfortunate, I miss'd my aim.

M. Gun.
But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd by me:
Chief master-gunner am I of this town;

Something I must do to procure me grace.
The prince's espials^{9 note}

If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word;
And thou shalt find me at the governor's. [Exit.

Son.
Father, I warrant you; take you no care;
I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them. Enter in an upper Chamber of a Tower, the Lords Salisbury and Talbot^{3 note}, Sir William Glansdale, Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Others.

Sal.
Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd!
How wert thou handled, being prisoner?
Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd?
Discourse, I pr'ythee, on this turret's top.

Tal.
The duke of Bedford had a prisoner,
Called—the brave lord Ponton de Santrailes;
For him I was exchang'd and ransomed.
But with a baser man of arms by far,
Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd me:
Which I, disdaining, scorn'd; and craved death
Rather than I would be so vile-esteem'd^{4 note}

In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd.
But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart!
Whom with my bare fists I would execute,
If I now had him brought into my power.

Sal.
Yet tell'st thou not, how thou wert entertain'd.

Tal.
With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious taunts.
In open market-place produc'd they me,
To be a publick spectacle to all;
Here, said they, is the terror of the French,

The scare-crow that affrights our children so^{5 note}
.
Then broke I from the officers that led me;
And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground,
To hurl at the beholders of my shame.
My grisly countenance made others fly;
None durst come near for fear of sudden death.
In iron walls they deem'd me not secure;
So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread,
That they suppos'd, I could rend bars of steel,
And spurn in pieces posts of adamant:
Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had,
That walk'd about me every minute-while;
And if I did but stir out of my bed,
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

Sal.
I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd;
But we will be reveng'd sufficiently.
Now it is supper-time in Orleans:
Here thorough this grate, I count each one^{6 note}
,
And view the Frenchmen how they fortify;
Let us look in, the sight will much delight thee.—
Sir Thomas Gargrave, and sir William Glansdale,
Let me have your express opinions,
Where is best place to make our battery next.

Gar.
I think, at the north gate; for there stand lords.

Glan.
And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge.

Tal.
For aught I see, this city must be famish'd,
Or with light skirmishes enfeebled^{7 note}. [Shot from the Town. Salisbury and Sir Tho. Gargrave fall.

Sal.
O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!

Gar.
O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man!

Tal.
What chance is this, that suddenly hath cross'd us?—
Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak;
How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men?
One of thy eyes, and thy cheek's side struck off^{8 note}!—
Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand,
That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy!
In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame;
Henry the fifth he first train'd to the wars;
Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up,
His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field.—
Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? though thy speech doth fail,
One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace^{9 note}

:
The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.—
Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive,
If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!—
Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it.—
Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?
Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.

Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort;
Thou shalt not die, whiles—
He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me;
As who should say, When I am dead and gone,
Remember to avenge me on the French.—
Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero^{1 note}

Mess.
My lord, my lord, the French have gather'd head:
The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd,—
A holy prophetess, new risen up,—
Is come with a great power to raise the siege. [Salisbury groans.

Tal.
Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan!
It irks his heart, he cannot be reveng'd.—
Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you:—
Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish^{2 note}

Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels,
And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.—
Convey me Salisbury into his tent,
And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare^{3 note}
. [Exeunt, bearing out the Bodies.

SCENE V. The Same. Before one of the Gates. Alarum. Skirmishings. Talbot pursueth the Dauphin, and driveth him in: 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 La 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^{4 note}, thou art a witch,
And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st.

Puc.
Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee. [They fight.

Tal.
Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?
My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage,
And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder,
But I will chástise this high-minded strumpet.

Puc.
Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come:
I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.
Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-starved^{5 note}

This day is ours, as many more shall be. [Pucelle enters the Town, with Soldiers.

Tal.
My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel^{6 note};
I know not where I am, nor what I do:
A witch, by fear^{7 note}, not force, like Hannibal,
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;
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:
Sheep run not half so timorous^{8 note} 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:
You all consented unto Salisbury's death,
For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.—
Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans,
In spite of us, or aught that we could do.
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.

SCENE VI. The Same. Enter, on the Walls, Pucelle, Charles, Reignier, Alencon, and Soldiers.

Puc.
Advance our waving colours on the walls;
Rescu'd is Orleans from the English^{9 note}

Char.
Divinest creature, Astræa's daughter,
How shall I honour th ee for this success?
Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens^{1 note}

That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the next.—
France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess!—

Recover'd is the town of Orleans:
More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.

Reig.
Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the town^{2 note}

Alen.
All France will be replete with mirth and joy,
When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.

Char.
'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won;
For which, I will divide my crown with her:
And all the priests and friars in my realm
Shall, in procession, sing her endless praise.
A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear,
Than Rhodope's^{3 note}

In memory of her, when she is dead,
Her ashes, in an urn more precious
Than the rich-jewel'd coffer of Darius^{4 note}

Transported shall be at high festivals
Before the kings and queens of France^{5 note}
.
No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry,
But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint.
Come in; and let us banquet royally,
After this golden day of victory. [Flourish. Exeunt.

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