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They, that of late were daring with their scoffs,
[Dies, and is carried off in his Chair.
Alarum: Enter Talbot, BURGUNDY, and Others.
Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again!
Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now? I think, her old familiar is asleep: Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks? What, all a-mort ?—Roüen hangs her head for grief, That such a valiant company are fled. Now will we take some order in the town, Placing therein some expert officers; And then depart to Paris, to the king; For there young Harry, with his nobles, lies.
Bur. What wills lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy.
Tal. But yet, before we go, let's not forget
SCENE III.—The same. The Plains near the City.
Enter Charles, the Bastard, Alençon, La Pucelle,
Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto,
Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies,
Alen. We'll set thy statue in some holy place,
Puc. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise :
Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that,
Alen. For ever should they be expuls'd from France, And not have title to an earldom here.
Puc. Your honours shall perceive how I will work, To bring this matter to the wished end. [Drums heard. Hark! by the sound of drum, you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.
An English March. Enter, and pass over at a distance,
TALBOT, and his Forces.
A French March. Enter the Duke of BURGUNDY and
[A Parley sounded.
hence. Char. Speak, Pucelle; and enchant him with thy
words. Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious.
Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, And see the cities and the towns defac'd By wasting ruin of the cruel foe! As looks the mother on her lowly babe, When death doth close his tender dying eyes, See, see, the pinipg malady of France;
Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,
Bur. Either she hath bewitched me with her words, Or nature makes me suddenly relent..
Puc. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. Who join’st thou with, but with a lordly nation, That will not trust thee, but for profit's sake! When Talbot hath set footing once in France, And fashion’d thee that instrument of ill, Who then, but English Henry, will be lord, And thou be thrust out, like a fugitive ? Call we to mind,-and mark but this, for proof ;Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe? And was he not in England prisoner? But, when they heard he was thine enemy, They set him free, without his ransom paid, In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends. See then! thou fight'st against thy countrymen, And join’st with them will be thy slaughter-men. Come, come, return; return, thou wand’ring lord; Charles, and the rest, will take thee in their arms.
Bur. I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot, And made me almost yield upon my knees.Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen !
My farewell, 1.ve a Frenchte
And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace:
Puc. Done like a Frenchman ; turn, and turn again!
Alen. Pucelle hath bravely played her part in this, And doth deserve a coronet of gold.
Char. Now, let us on, my lords, and join our powers; And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.-Paris. A Room in the Palace.
Enter King HENRY, GLOSTER, and other Lords, VER
NON, Basset, 8c. To them, TALBOT, and some of his Officers.
Tal. My gracious prince,-and honourable peers,Hearing of your arrival in this realm, I have a while given truce unto my wars, To do my duty to my sovereign : In sign whereof, this arm—that hath reclaim'd To your obedience fifty fortresses, Twelve cities, and seven waled towns of strength, Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem,Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet; And, with submissive loyalty of heart, Ascribes the glory of his conquest got, First to my God, and next unto your grace.
K. Hen. Is this the lord Talbot, uncle Gloster, That hath so long been resident in France?