Pucel.
These are the city gates, the gates of Roan,
Through which our policy must make a breach:—
Take heed, be wary how you place your words;
Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men,
That come to gather money for their corn.
If we have entrance, (as, I hope, we shall)
And that we find the slothful watch but weak,
I'll by a sign give notice to our friends,
That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.

1 Sol.
Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city^{2 note},
And we be lords and rulers over Roan;
Therefore we'll knock. [Knocks.

Watch.
Qui va là? 9Q0804

Pucel.
Paisans, pauvres gens de France:
Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn.

Watch.
Enter, go in; the market-bell is rung.

Pucel.
Now, Roan, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground. [Exeunt. Enter Dauphin, Bastard, and Alençon.

Dau.
Saint Dennis bless this happy stratagem!
And once again we'll sleep secure in Roan.

Bast.
^{3 note}Here enter'd Pucelle, and her practisants:

Now she is there, how will she specify
Where is the best and safest passage in?

Reig.
By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower;
Which, once discern'd, shews, that her meaning is,—
^{4 note}No way to that, for weakness, which she enter'd. Enter Joan la Pucelle on a battlement, thrusting out a torch burning.

Pucel.
Behold, this is the happy wedding torch,
That joineth Roan unto her countrymen;
But burning fatal to the Talbotites.

Bast.
See, noble Charles! the beacon of our friend,
The burning torch in yonder turret stands.

Dau.
Now shine it like a comet of revenge,
A prophet to the fall of all our foes!

Reig.
Defer no time, Delays have dangerous ends;
Enter, and cry—The Dauphin!—presently,
And then do execution on the watch. [An alarum; Talbot in an excursion.

Tal.
France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery.—
Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
^{5 note}

An alarum: excursions. Enter Bedford, brought in sick, in a chair, with Talbot and Burgundy, without. Within, Joan la Pucelle, Dauphin, Bastard, and ^{6 note}Alençon, on the walls.

Pucel.
Good morrow, gallants! want ye corn for bread?
I think, the duke of Burgundy will fast,
Before he'll buy again at such a rate:
'Twas full of darnel; Do you like the taste?

Burg.
Scoff on, vile fiend, and shameless courtezan!
I trust, ere long to choak thee with thine own,
And make thee curse the harvest of that corn.

Dau.
Your grace may starve, perhaps, before that time.

Bed.
Oh, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason!

Pucel.
What will you do, good grey-beard? break a lance,
And run a tilt at death within a chair?

Tal.
Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despight,
Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours!
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age,
And twit with cowardice a man half dead?
Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again,
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.

Pucel.
Are you so hot, sir?—Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.— [Talbot, and the rest, whisper together in council.
God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker?

Tal.
Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the field?

Pucel.
Belike, you lordship takes us then for fools,
To try if that our own be ours, or no.

Tal.
I speak not to that railing Hecate,
But unto thee, Alençon, and the rest;
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?

Alen.
Signior, no.

Tal.
Signior, hang!—base muleteers of France!
Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls,
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.

Pucel.
Captains, away: let's get us from the walls;
For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks.—
God be wi' you, my lord! we came, sir, but to tell you
That we are here. [Exeunt from the walls.

Tal.
And there will we be too, ere it be long,
Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame!—
Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house,
(Prick'd on by public wrongs, sustain'd in France)
Either to get the town again, or die:
And I,—as sure as English Henry lives,
And as his father here was conqueror;
As sure as in this late-betrayed town
Great Cœur-de-lion's heart was buried;
So sure I swear, to get the town, or die.

Burg.
My vows are equal partners with thy vows.

Tal.
But, ere we go, regard this dying prince,
The valiant duke of Bedford:—Come, my lord,
We will bestow you in some better place,
Fitter for sickness, and for crazy age.

Bed.
Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me:
Here will I sit before the walls of Roan,
And will be partner of your weal, or woe.

Burg.
Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you.

Bed.
Not to be gone from hence; for once I read^{7 note}

That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick,
Came to the field, and vanquished his foes:
Methinks, I should revive the soldiers' hearts,
Because I ever found them as myself.

Tal.
Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!—
Then be it so:—Heavens keep old Bedford safe!—
And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,
But gather we our forces out of hand,
And set upon our boasting enemy. [Exeunt Burgundy, Talbot, and forces. An alarum: excursions. Enter Sir John Fastolffe, and a Captain.

Cap.
Whither away, Sir John Fastolffe, in such haste?

Fast.
Whither away? to save myself by flight;
We are like to have the overthrow again.

Cap.
What! will you fly, and leave lord Talbot?

Fast.
Ay,
All the Talbots in the world, to save my life. [Exit.

Cap.
Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee! [Exit. Retreat: excursions. Pucelle, Alençon, and Dauphin fly.

Bed.
Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven shall please;

For I have seen our enemies' overthrow.
What is the trust or strength of foolish man?
They, that of late were daring with their scoffs,
Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. [Dies, and is carried off in his chair. An alarum: Enter Talbot, Burgundy, and the rest.

Tal.
Lost, and recover'd in a day again!
This is a double honour, Burgundy:—
Yet, heavens have glory for this victory!

Burg.
Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
Enshrines thee in his heart; and there erects
Thy noble deeds, as valour's monument.

Tal.
Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now?
I think, her old familiar is asleep:
Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?
What, all a-mort? Roan hangs her head for grief,
That such a valiant company are fled.
Now will we take some order in the town,
Placing therein some expert officers;
And then depart to Paris, to the king;
For there young Henry, with his nobles, lies.

Burg.
What wills lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy.

Tal.
But yet, before we go, let's not forget
The noble duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
But see his exequies fulfill'd in Roan;
A braver soldier never couched lance,
A gentler heart did never sway in court:
But kings, and mightiest potentates, must die;
For that's the end of human misery. [Exeunt.

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