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Orleans. Within the Town. | |
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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. | 5 |
| 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 | 10 |
| 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 corse shall be interr’d: | 15 |
| 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, | 20 |
| 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, | 25 |
| 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, | 30 |
| 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. | 35 |
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Enter a Messenger. | |
| Mess. All hail, my lords! Which of this princely train | |
| Call ye the war-like Talbot, for his acts | |
| So much applauded through the realm of France? | |
| Tal. Here is the Talbot: who would speak with him? | 40 |
| 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 | 45 |
| Whose glory fills the world with loud report. | |
| Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our wars | |
| Will turn into a peaceful comic sport, | |
| When ladies crave to be encounter’d with. | |
| You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit. | 50 |
| 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. | 55 |
| 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,— | 60 |
| 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. | |
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