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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