Tal.
Lost and recover'd in a day again,
This is a double honour, Burgundy;
Yet heav'ns have glory for this victory.

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

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 † ^noteglikes?
What, all a-mort? Roan hangs her head for grief,
That such a valiant company are fled.
Now we will 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 lyes.

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 launce,
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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