SCENE II. Roan in France.

Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE difguifed, and Soldiers with Sacks upon their Backs, like Countrymen.

words;

Pucel. These are the city gates, the gates of Roan, Through which our policy must make a breach :— Take heed, be wary how you place your Talk like the vulgar fort of market-men, That come to gather money for their corn. If we have entrance (as, I hope, we shall), And that we find the flothful watch but weak, I'll by a fign give notice to our friends, That Charles the dauphin may encounter them, 1 Sol. Our facks shall be a mean to fack the city, And we be lords and rulers over Roan;

Therefore we'll knock.

Watch. Qui va là?

[Knocks.

Pucel. Paifans, pauvre gens de France: Poor market-folks, that come to fell their corn. Watch. Enter, go in; the market-bell is rung. Pucel. Now, Roan, I'll fhake thy bulwarks to the ground. [Exeunt.

Enter Dauphin, Baftard, and ALENÇON.

Dau. Saint Dennis blefs this happy ftratagem: And once again we'll fleep fecure in Roan.

Baft. Here enter'd Pucelle, and her practisants; Now the is there, how will fhe specify Where is the best and safest paffage in?

Reig. By thrufting out a torch from yonder tower; Which, once difcerned, fhews, that her meaning is-No way to that, for weakness, which fhe enter'd.

Enter

Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE on a Battlement, thrusting out a Torch burning.

Pucel. Behold this is the happy wedding torch, That joineth Roan unto her countrymen; But burning fatal to the Talbotites.

Baft. See, noble Charles! the beacon of our friend, The burning torch in yonder turret stands.

Dau. Now fhine it like a comet of revenge, A prophet to the fall of all our foes!

Reig. Defer no time, Delays have dangerous ends; Enter, and cry-The Dauphin!-prefently, And then do execution on the watch.

[An Alarum; TALBOT in an Excurfion.

Tal. France, thou fhalt rue thy treafon with thy If Talbot but furvive thy treachery.

[tears,

Pucelle, that witch, that damned forcerefs,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares.
That hardly we efcap'd the pride of France.

[Exit:

An Alarum: Excurfions. Enter BEDFORD, brought in fick, in a Chair, with TALBOT and BURGUNDY, without. Within, JOAN LA PUCELLE, Dauphin, Baftard, and ALENÇON, on the Walls.

Pucel. Good morrow, gallants! want ye corn for I think, the duke of Burgundy will faft, [bread? Before he'll buy again at fuch a rate:

'Twas full of darnel; Do you like the tafte?

Burg. Scoffon, vile fiend, and fhameless courtezan! I trust, ere long to choke thee with thine own, And make thee curfe the harvest of that corn. Dau. Your grace may starve, perhaps, before that time.

Bed,

Bed. Oh, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treafon!

Pucel. What will you do, good grey-beard? break
And run a tilt at death within a chair? [a lance,
Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all defpigh,
Encompass'd with thy luftful paramours!
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age,
And twit with cowardice a man half dead?
Damfel, I'll have a bout with you again,
Or elfe let Talbot perith with this fhame.
Pucel. Are you fo hot, fir ?-Yet, Pucelle, hold
thy peace;

If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.-
[TALBOT, and the reft, whisper together in Council.
God fpeed the parliament! who fhall be the speakers
Tal. Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the field?
Pucel. Belike, your lordship takes us then forfools,
To try if that our own be ours, or no.

Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate,
But unto thee, Alençon, and the reft;
Will ye, like foldiers, come and fight it out?
Alen. Signior, no.

Tal. Signior, hang!-bafe muleteers of France! Like peafant 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, fir, but to tell you

That we are here.

[Exeunt from the Walls. Tal. And there will we be too ere it be long, Or elfe reproach be Talbot's greatest fame!Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy houfe (Prick'd on by publick wrongs, fuftain'd in France),

Either to get the town again, or die:
And I-as fure as English Henry lives,
And as his father here was conqueror ;
As fure as in this late-betrayed town
Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried;
So fure 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 fome better place, Fitter for fickness, and for crazy age.

Bed. Lord Talbot, do not fo dishonour me : Here will I fit before the walls of Roan, And will be partner of your weal, or woe.

Burg. Courageous Bedford, let us now perfuade

you.

Bed. Not to be gone from hence; for once I read That ftout Pendragon, in his litter, fick, Came to the field, and vanquished his foes: Methinks, I fhould revive the foldiers' hearts, Because I ever found them as myself.

Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breaft!Then be it fo:--Heavens keep old Bedford fafe;And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,

But gather we our forces out of hand,

And fet upon our boafting enemy.

[Exeunt BURGUNDY, TALBOT, and Forces.

An Alarum: Excurfions. Enter Sir JOHN FASTOLFE, and a Captain.

Cap. Whither away, Sir John Faftolfe, in fuch hafte?

Faft. Whither away? to fave myself by flight; We are like to have the overthrow again.

Cap.

Cap. What! will you fly, and leave lord Talbot? Faft. Ay,

All the Talbots in the world, to fave my life.

[Exits

Cap. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee!

:

[Exit.

Retreat Excurfions. PUCELLE, ALENÇON, and Dauphin fly.

Bed. Now, quiet foul, depart when heaven shall pleafe;

For I have feen our enemies' overthrow.
What is the truft or ftrength of foolish man?
They, that of late were daring with their fcoffs,
Are glad and fain by flight to fave themselves.

[Dies, and is carried off in his Chair.

An Alarum: Enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and the reft.
Tal. Loft, and recover'd in a day again!
This is a double honour, Burgundy-
Yet, heavens have glory for this victory!
Burg. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
Enfhrines thee in his heart; and there erects
Thy noble deeds, as valour's monument.

Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle I think, her old familiar is afleep:

[now? Now where's the bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?

What, all a-mort? Roan hangs her head for grief,
That fuch a valiant company are fled.

Now will we take fome order in the town,
Placing therein fome expert officers;

And then depart to Paris, to the king;

For there young Henry, with his nobles, lies.

F

Burg