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Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].

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SCENE V. The same. Another Part of it. Alarums, &c. Enter Dauphin, Orleans, Constable, Bourbon, and divers Others.

Con.
O diable!

Orl.
O seigneur!—le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!

Dau.
Mort de ma ^note vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach, reproach, and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes.—O meschante fortune!—
Do not run away. [other Alarums.

Con.
Why, all our ranks are broke.

Dau.
O perdurable shame!—let's stab ourselves.
Be these the wretches, that we play'd at dice for?

Orl.
Is this the king, we sent to for his ransom?

Bou.
Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame!
Let us die instant ^note:—Once more back again;
And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go hence, and, with his cap in hand,
Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door,

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Whilst by a ^note slave, no gentler than my dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminate ^note.

Con.
Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us ^note now:
Let us, on heaps, go offer up our lives.

Orl.
We are enough, yet living in the field,
To smother up the English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.

Bou.
The devil take order now! I'll to the throng:
Let life be short; else, shame will be too long. [Exeunt.
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