Char.
Mars his true moving, ev'n as in the heav'ns,(5) ^note
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 lye near Orleans:
Tho still the famish'd English, like pale ghosts,
Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.

Alan.
They want their porridge, and their fat Bullbeeves;
Either they must be dieted, like mules,
And have their provender ty'd to their mouths;
Or piteous they will look like drowned mice.

Reign.
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 mony, 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. [Here Alarm, they are beaten back by the English with great loss. Re-Enter Charles, Alanson, and Reignier.

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 desp'rate homicide,
He sighteth as one weary of his life:
The other lords, like lions wanting food,
Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.

Alan.
Froysard, a countryman of ours, records,
England all Olivers and Rowlands bred,
During the time Edward the Third did reign:
More truly now may this be verified;
For none but Sampsons and Goliasses
It sendeth forth to skirmish; one to ten!
Lean raw-bon'd rascals! who would e'er suppose,
They had such courage and audacity!

Char.
Let's leave this town, for they are hair-brain'd slaves,
And hunger will enforce them be more eager:
Of old I know them; rather with their teeth
The walls they'll tear down, than forsake the siege.

Reig.
I think, by some odd gimmals or device
Their arms are set like clocks, still to strike on;
Else they could ne'er hold out so, as they do:
By my consent we'll e'en let them alone.

Alan.
Be is so. Enter the Bastard of Orleans.

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

Dau.
Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.

Bast.
Methinks, your looks are sad, your chear appal'd.
Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?
Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand:
A holy maid hither with me I bring,
Which by a vision, sent to her from heav'n,
Ordained is to raise this tedious siege;
And drive the English forth the bounds of France.
The spirit of deep prophecie she hath,
Exceeding the nine Sibylls of old Rome:(6) ^note
What's past, and what's to come, she can descry,
Speak, shall I call her in? believe my words,
For they are certain and infallible.

Dau.
Go, call her in; 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. Enter Joan la Pucelle.

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

Pucel.
Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me?
Where is the Dauphin? come, come from behind,
I know thee well, tho 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 awhile.

Reig.
She takes upon her bravely at first dash.

Pucel.
Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter,
My wit untrain'd in any kind of art:
Heav'n, and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd
To shine on my contemptible estate.
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,
Will'd me to leave my base vocation,
And free my country from calamity:
Her aid she promis'd, and assur'd success.
In compleat glory she reveal'd her self;
And, whereas I was black and swart before,
With those clear rays which she infus'd on me,
That beauty am I blest with, which you see.
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, thou shalt be fortunate,
If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.

Dau.
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.

Pucel.
I am prepar'd; here is my keen-edg'd sword,
Deck'd with fine Flow'r-de-luces on each side;
The which, at Tourain in St. Catharine's church,
Out of a deal of old iron I chose forth.

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

Pucel.
And while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man. Here they fight, and Joan la Pucelle overcomes.

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

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

Dau.
Who-e'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me:
Impatiently I burn with thy desire,
My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd;
Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so,
Let me thy servant and not Soveraign be,
'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus.

Pucel.
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 recompence.

Dau.
Mean time, look gracious on thy prostrate thrall.

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

Alan.
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?

Alan.
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?

Pucel.
Why, no, I say; distrustful recreants!
Fight till the last gasp, for I'll be your guard.

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

Pucel.
Assign'd I am to be the English scourge.
This night the siege assuredly I'll raise:
Expect Saint Martin's summer, Halcyon days,
Since I have enter'd thus into these wars.
Glory is like a circle in the water;
Which never ceaseth to enlarge it self,
Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought.
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 bore at once.

Dau.
Was Mahomet inspired with a Dove?
Thou with an Eagle art inspired then.
Helen the mother of great Constantine,
Nor yet St. Philip's daughters, were like thee.
Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth,
How may I reverently worship thee?

Alan.
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.

Dau.
Presently try: come, let's away about it.
No prophet will I trust, if she proves false. [Exeunt.

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