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

Boy.
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 'spials^{8 note}
have informed me,
How ^{9 note}

Boy.
Father, I warrant you; take you no care;
I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them. Enter the lords Salisbury and Talbot^{1 note}, with Sir W. Glansdale and Sir Tho. Gargrave, on the turrets.

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 pry'thee, 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 ^{2 note}so pill'd esteem'd.
In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd.
But, oh! the treacherous Fastolffe 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 public 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 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. Enter the Boy, 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, 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.

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. [Shot from the town. Salisbury and Sir Tho. Gargrave fall 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 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!—
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,
^{3 note}

One eye thou hast to look to heaven 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.
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. [Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens.
What stir is this? What tumult's in the heavens?
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:—
^{4 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 dastard Frenchmen dare. [Alarum. Exeunt, bearing out the bodies.

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