Tal.
Where is my strength, my valour and my force?
Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them:
A woman clad in armour chaseth them. Enter Pucelle.
Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee;
Devil, or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee:
Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch,
And straitway give thy soul to him thou serv'st.

Pucel.
Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee. [They fight.* ^note





Talbot farewel, thy hour is not yet come,
I must go victual Orleans forthwith. A short alarum. Then enter the town with soldiers.
O'ertake me if thou canst, I scorn thy strength.
Go, go, chear up thy hunger-starved men,
Help Salisbury to make his testament:
This day is ours, as many more shall be. [Exit Pucelle.

Tal.
My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel.
I know not where I am, nor what I do:
A witch, by fear not force, like Hannibal
Drives back our troops, and conquers as she lists:
So Bees with smoak, and Doves with noisom stench,
Are from their hives and houses driv'n away.
They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs,
Now like their whelps we crying run away. [A short alarum.
Hark countrymen, either renew the fight,
Or tear the Lions out of England's coat;
Renounce your soil, give Sheep in Lions stead:
Sheep run not half so ^{d note}tim'rous from the Wolf,
Or Horse or Oxen from the Leopard,
As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves. [Alarum. Here another skirmish.
It will not be: retire into your trenches:
You all consented unto Salisbury's death,
For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans,

In spight of us, or ought that we could do.
O would I were to die with Salisbury!
The shame hereof will make me hide my head. [Exit Talbot. Alarum, Retreat, Flourish.

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