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

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

&blquo;Gun.
&blquo;But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd by me:
&blquo;Chief master-gunner am I of this town;
&blquo;Something I must do, to procure me grace.
&blquo;The prince's 'spials have informed me,
&blquo;How the English, in the suburbs close entrench'd,
&blquo;Went, through a secret grate of iron bars
&blquo;In yonder tower, to over-peer the city;
&blquo;And thence discover, how, with most advantage,
&blquo;They may vex us, with shot, or with assault.
&blquo;To intercept this inconvenience,
&blquo;A piece of ord'nance 'gainst it I have plac'd;
&blquo;And fully even these three days have I watch'd,
&blquo;If I could see them: Now, boy, do thou watch;
&blquo;For I can stay no longer.
&blquo;If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word;
&blquo;And thou shalt find me at the governor's. [Exit, from above.

&blquo;Son.
&blquo;Father, I warrant you; take you no care;
&blquo;I'll never trouble you, if I may 'spy them* ^note. Enter the Lords Salisbury and Talbot, Sir Thomas Gargrave, Sir William Glansdale, and others.

Sal.
Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd!
How wert thou handl'd, 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 Santrailles;
For him was I 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.
In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd.
&blquo;But, O, the treacherous Falstaff wounds my heart!
&blquo;Whom with my bare fists I would execute,
&blquo;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 public spectacle to all;
Here, said they, is the terror of the French,
The scarecrow that affrights our children so:
Then broke I from the officers that led me;
And with my nails dig'd stones out of the ground,
To hurl at the beholders of my shame.
My grizly countenance made others fly;
None durst come near, for fear of sudden death.
An iron walls they deem'd me not secure;
So great fear of my name 'mong'st 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* ^note.

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, through this grate, I can count every one,
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.

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

Tal.
For ought I see, this city must be famish'd:
Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. [Shot from the town. Sal. and Sir Tho. Gar. fall.

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

Gar.
O Lord have mercy on me, woful man† ^note!

Tal.
What chance is this that suddenly hath crost us?—
&blquo;Speak, Salisbury, at least, if thou canst speak;
&blquo;How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men?
&blquo;One of thy eyes, and thy cheek's side struck off!—
&blquo;Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand,
&blquo;That hath contriv'd this woful 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,
&blquo;One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace:
&blquo;The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.—
&blquo;Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive,
&blquo;If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands.—
&blquo;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, chear 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 Nero-like,
Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn:
Wretched shall France be only in my name. [Thunder heard; afterwards an alarum.
What stir is this? what tumult's in the heavens?
Whence cometh this alarum, and this noise? Enter a Messenger hastily.

Mes.
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 dog-fish,
Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels,
And make a quagmire of your mingl'd brains* ^note.—
Convey me Salisbury into his tent,
And then we'll try what dastard Frenchmen dare. [Exeunt, bearing out the bodies.

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