Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him. Alen. Here cometh Charles: I marvel, how he sped. Enter CHARLES and LA PUCELLE. Bast. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard. Char. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame? Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, Make us partakers of a little gain, That now our loss might be ten times so much? Or will you blame, and lay the fault on me?— We had not been thus shamefully surpriz’d. Reig. And so was mine, my lord. Char. And for myself, most part of all this night, Within her quarter, and mine own precinct, I was employ'd in passing to and fro, About relieving of the sentinels: Then how, or which way, should they first break in? * And lay new PLATFORMS ] i. e. Plots or plans. The plot of a play was formerly called a "platform." See the "Hist. of Eng. Dram. Poetry and the Stage," vol. iii. p. 393, &c. VOL. V. D Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying, a Talbot! a Talbot! They fly, leaving their Clothes behind. Sold. I'll be so bold to take what they have left. [Exit. SCENE II. Orleans. Within the Town. Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain, and Others. Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled, [Retreat sounded. Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury; A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd: I muse, we met not with the Dauphin's grace, Bed. 'Tis thought, lord Talbot, when the fight began, Bur. Myself, as far as I could well discern, That could not live asunder, day or night. 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 would'st vouchsafe That she may boast she hath beheld the man 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-rul'd. 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; 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 III. Auvergne. Court of the 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. [Exit. Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out right, I shall as famous be by this exploit, As Scythian Thomyris by Cyrus' death. Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight, Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, To give their censure of these rare reports. Enter Messenger and TALBOT. Mess. Madam, according as your ladyship desir'd, By message crav'd, so is lord Talbot come. Count. And he is welcome. What! is this the man? Mess. Madam, it is. Count. 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. It cannot be, this weak and writhled shrimp Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you; I'll sort some other time to visit you. Count. What means he now?-Go ask him, whither he goes. Mess. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady craves Re-enter Porter, with Keys. Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. Count. To me, blood-thirsty lord; And for that cause I train'd thee to my house. But now the substance shall endure the like, Wasted our country, slain our citizens, Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn to moan. Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond, To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow, Count. Why, art not thou the man? I am indeed. Count. Then have I substance too. |