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 Santraile.
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.
But, oh! the treach'rous Fastolffe wounds my heart;
Whom with my bare fists I would execute,
If I now had him brought into my pow'r.

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.
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 a fear my name amongst them 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;
They walk'd about me ev'ry minute-while;
And if I did but stir out of my bed,
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart. Enter the Boy, on the other side, with a Linstock.

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 thro' this grate I can count every one,
And view the Frenchmen how they fortify;
Let us look in, the fight will much delight thee.
Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glansdale,
Let me have your express opinions,
Where is best place to make our batt'ry 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. [Here they shoot, and Salisbury falls down.

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

Gar.
O Lord, have mercy on me, woful man.

Tal.
What chance is this, that suddenly hath crost 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!
Accursed tow'r, accursed fatal hand,
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? tho' thy speech doth fail,
One eye thou hast to look to heav'n for grace.
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.
—O Salisb'ry, chear thy spirit with this comfort,
Thou shalt not die, while—
—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. [Here an alarm, and it thunders and lightens.
What stir is this? what tumults in the heav'ns?
Whence cometh this alarum and this noise? Enter a Messenger.

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. [Here Salisbury lifteth himself up, and 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.
* ^notePucelle or Pussel, Dauphin or Dog-fish,
Your hearts I'll stamp out with my Horse's heels,
And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.
Convey brave Salisbury into his tent,
And then we'll try what dastard Frenchmen dare. [Alarm. Exeunt, bearing Salisbury and Sir Thomas Gargrave out.

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