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 curtizan!
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 not 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,
Incompass'd with thy lustful paramours,
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age,
And twit with cowardise a man half dead?
Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again,
Or else let Talbot perish with his shame.

Pucel.
Are you so hot? yet, Pucelle, hold thy Peace;
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. [They whisper together in counsel.
God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker?

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

Pucel.
Belike, your 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, Alanson, and the rest.
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?

Alan.
Seignior, no.

Tal.
Seignior, 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 publick 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 Cœurdelion'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 I will sit before the walls of Roan,
And will be partner of your weal and woe.

Burg.
Couragious Bedford, let us now persuade you.

Bed.
Not to be gone from hence: for once I read,
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 my self.

Tal.
Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!
Then be it so: heav'ns 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. [Exit. An alarm: excursions: Enter Sir John Fastolfe, and a Captain.

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

Fast.
Whither away? to save my self 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, Alanson, and Dauphin fly.

Bed.
Now, quiet soul, depart when heav'n 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.

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