How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men ?
Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand,
That hath contrived this woeful tragedy !
Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive,
If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hand!
Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.
Cheer, Salisbury, thy spirit with this comfort ;
Thou shalt not die,-He beckons with his hand,
As who would say, "When I am dead and gone,
Remember to avenge me on the French."
Plantagenet, I will; and, Nero-like,
Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn :
Wretched shall France be only in my name.

[Shouts heard; afterwards an alarum.

What stir is this? what tumult in the heavens ?
Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise ?

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, my lord, the French have gather'd head :

The Dauphin, with one Joan La Pucelle join'd,

A holy prophetess, new risen up,

Is come with a great power to raise the siege.

Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan!

It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd.

Convey me Salisbury into his tent,

Then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Before the Gates of Orleans.

Shouts of Victory. Enter Pucelle, CHARLES, REIGNIER, ALENÇON, and Soldiers.

Puc.

Advance our waving colours on the walls;

Rescued from the English is Orleans :-
Thus Joan La Pucelle hath perform'd her word.

Char. Divinest creature, bright Astræa's daughter,

How shall I honour thee for this success?

Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens,

That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the next,

France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess !-
Recover'd is the town of Orleans:

More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.

Reig. Why ring not out the bells throughout the town ? Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires, And feast and banquet in the open streets, To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.

Alen. All France shall be replete with mirth and joy,
When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.

Char. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won :
For which, I will divide my crown with her :
And all the priests and friars of the realm
Shall, in procession, sing her endless praise.
A statelier pyramid to her I'll rear,
Than Rhodope's of Memphis ever was :
In memory of her, when she is dead,
Her ashes, in an urn more precious
Than the rich jewell'd coffer of Darius,
Transported shall be at high festivals
Ever before the kings and queens of France.
No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry,
But Joan La Pucelle shall be France's saint.
Come in: and let us banquet royally,
After this golden day of victory.

[They enter the town.

ACT III

SCENE I. Before the Gates of Orleans. Night.

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, Burgundy, and Forces with scaling-ladders.

Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,

By whose approach, the regions of Artois,
Walloon, and Picardy, are friends to us,—
This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
Having all day carous'd and banqueted :
Embrace we then this opportunity

As fitting best to quittance their deceit,

Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery.

Bed. Coward of France!-how much he wrongs his fame,

Despairing of his own arm's fortitude,

To join with witches, and the help of hell !

Bur. Traitors have never other company.

But what's that Pucelle, whom they term so pure ?

Tal. A maid, they say.

Bed.

Bur.

A maid! and be so martial!

Pray God she prove not masculine ere long;

If underneath the standard of the French,

She carry armour, as she hath begun.

Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with spirits :

God is our fortress; in whose conquering name

Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.

Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot : we will follow thee,

Tal. Not all together: better far, I guess,

That we do make our entrance several ways;

That if it chance the one of us do fail,

The other yet may rise against their force.

Bed. Agreed; I'll to yon corner.

Bur.

I to this.

Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make his grave.

Now, Salisbury! for thee, and for the right
Of English Henry, shall this night appear

How much in duty I am bound to both.

[The English scale the walls. Sent. [Within.] Arm, arm! the enemy doth make [The French rush through the gates, pursued by the English.

assault!

Enter TALBOT, Bedford, Burgundy, a Captain, and others.
Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled,
Whose pitchy mantle over-veiled the earth.
Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.

[Retreat sounded.

Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury,
And here advance it in the market-place,
The middle centre of this cursed town.
Now have I paid my vow unto his soul;

For every drop of blood was drawn from him
There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night.
And that hereafter ages may behold
What ruin happen'd in revenge of him,
Within their chiefest temple I'll erect
A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd :
Upon the which, that every one may read,
Shall be engraved the sack of Orleans,
The treacherous manner of his mournful death
And what a terror he had been to France.
But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,

I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace,
His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc,
Nor any of his false confederates.

Bed. 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began,
Roused on the sudden from their drowsy beds,
They did amongst the troops of armed men
Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field.

Bur. After that things are set in order here,

We'll follow them with all the power we have.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. All hail, my lords! Which of this princely train Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts

So much applauded through the realm of France ?

Tal. Here is the Talbot: who would speak with him ?

Mess. The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne,

With modesty admiring thy renown,
By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe
To visit her poor castle where she lies,
That she may boast she hath beheld the man
Whose glory fills the world with loud report.

Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our wars

Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport,
When ladies crave to be encounter'd with.

You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.

Tal. Ne'er trust me then; for when a world of men

Could not prevail with all their oratory,
Yet hath a woman's kindness over-ruled :

And therefore tell her I return great thanks,

And in submission will attend on her.

Will not your honours bear me company?

Bed. No, truly; it is more than manners will :

And I have heard it said, unbidden guests

Are often welcomest when they are gone.

Tal. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy, I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. Come hither, captain. [Whispers.] You perceive my mind? Capt. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Hall in the Countess's Castle.

Enter the COUNTESS and her Porter.

Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge;

And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.
Port. Madam, I will.

Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out right,

I shall as famous be by this exploit
As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death.
Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight,
And his achievements of no less account:

Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears,
To give their censure of these rare reports.

Enter Messenger and TALBOT.

Mess. According as your ladyship desired,

By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come.

[Exit.

What! is this the man?

Is this the scourge of France ?

Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad

That with his name the mothers still their babes ?

I see report is fabulous and false :

I thought I should have seen some Hercules,

A second Hector, for his grim aspect,

And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs.
Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf!

It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp
Should strike such terror to his enemies.