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.

And 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, crying St. George!
a Talbot! and all enter the Town.

Sent. [Within.] Arm, arm! the enemy doth make assault!

The French leap over the Walls in their shirts. Enter, several ways, BASTARD, ALENÇON, REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready3.

Alen. How now, my lords! what, all unready so?
Bast. Unready? ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well.
Reig. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our
beds,

Hearing alarums at our chamber doors.

Alen. Of all exploits, since first I followed arms,

Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprize

More venturous, or desperate than this.

3

Bast. I think, this Talbot be a fiend of hell.

- half READY, and half UNREADY.] i. e. half dressed, and half undressed. "Ready" and "unready," in the time of Shakespeare, were the commonest words for dressed and undressed. Examples might be pointed out in nearly every old writer.

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?

Puc. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend? At all times will you have my power alike?

Sleeping or waking must I still prevail,

Or will you blame, and lay the fault on me?—
Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good,
This sudden mischief never could have fallen.
Char. Duke of Alençon, this was your default,
That, being captain of the watch to-night,
Did look no better to that weighty charge.
Alen. Had all your quarters been as safely kept,
As that whereof I had the government,

We had not been thus shamefully surpriz'd.
Bast. Mine was secure.

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?
Puc. Question, my lords, no further of the case,
How, or which way: 'tis sure, they found some place
But weakly guarded, where the breach was made;
And now there rests no other shift but this,-
To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd,
And lay new platforms to endamage them.

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.
The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword;
For I have loaden me with many spoils,
Using no other weapon but his name.

[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,
Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd 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 engrav'd 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, Rous'd 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. Myself, as far as I could well discern, For smoke, and dusky vapours of the night, Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin, and his trull; When arm in arm they both came swiftly running, Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves,

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

Call

train

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
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-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;
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 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,
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. 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,