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Charles, Reignier, Alençon, and Soldiers. Pucelle

Advance our waving colours on the walls;
Rescued is Orleans from the English:
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform’d her word.

Charles

Divinest creature, Astraea’s daughter,
How shall I honour thee for this success?
Thy promises are like Adonis’ gardens
That one day bloom’d and fruitful were the next.
France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess!
Recover’d is the town of Orleans:
More blessed hap did ne’er befall our state.

Reignier

Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the town?
Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires
And feast and banquet in the open streets,
To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.

Alençon

All France will be replete with mirth and joy,
When they shall hear how we have play’d the men.

Charles

’Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won;
For which I will divide my crown with her,
And all the priests and friars in my realm
Shall in procession sing her endless praise.
A statelier pyramis to her I’ll rear
Than Rhodope’s or Memphis’ ever was:
In memory of her when she is dead,
Her ashes, in an urn more precious
Than the rich-jewel’d of Darius,
Transported shall be at high festivals
Before the kings and queens of France.
No longer on Saint Denis will we cry,
But Joan la Pucelle shall be France’s saint.
Come in, and let us banquet royally,
After this golden day of victory. Flourish. Exeunt.

Act II Scene I

Before Orleans.

Enter a Sergeant of a band with two Sentinels. Sergeant

Sirs, take your places and be vigilant:
If any noise or soldier you perceive
Near to the walls, by some apparent sign
Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.

First Sentinel

Sergeant, you shall. Exit Sergeant. Thus are poor servitors,
When others sleep upon their quiet beds,
Constrain’d to watch in darkness, rain and cold.

Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, and forces, with scaling-ladders, their drums beating a dead march. Talbot

Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,
By whose approach the regions of Artois,
Wallon and Picardy are friends to us,
This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
Having all day caroused and banqueted:
Embrace we then this opportunity
As fitting best to quittance their deceit
Contrived by art and baleful sorcery.

Bedford

Coward of France! how much he wrongs his fame,
Despairing of his own arm’s fortitude,
To join with witches and the help of hell!

Burgundy

Traitors have never other company.
But what’s that Pucelle whom they term so pure?

Talbot A maid, they say. Bedford A maid! and be so martial! Burgundy

Pray God she prove not masculine ere long,
If underneath the standard of the French
She carry armour as she hath begun.

Talbot

Well, let them practise and converse with spirits:
God is our fortress, in whose conquering name
Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.

Bedford Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee. Talbot

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.

Bedford Agreed: I’ll to yond corner. Burgundy And I to this. Talbot

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.

Sentinels Arm! arm! the enemy doth make assault! Cry: “St. George,” “A Talbot.” The French leap over the walls in their shirts. Enter, several ways, the Bastard of Orleans, Alençon, and Reignier, half ready, and half unready. Alençon How now, my lords! what, all unready so? Bastard Unready! ay, and glad we ’scaped so well. Reignier

’Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,
Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors.

Alençon

Of all exploits since first I follow’d arms,
Ne’er heard I of a warlike enterprise
More venturous or desperate than this.

Bastard I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell. Reignier If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him. Alençon Here cometh Charles: I marvel how he sped. Bastard Tut, holy Joan was his defensive guard. Enter Charles and La Pucelle. Charles

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?

Pucelle

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 fall’n.

Charles

Duke of Alençon, this was your default,
That, being captain of the watch to-night,
Did look no better to that weighty charge.

Alençon

Had all your quarters been as safely kept
As that whereof I had the government,
We had not been thus shamefully surprised.

Bastard Mine was secure. Reignier And so was mine, my lord. Charles

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?

Pucelle

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 dispersed,
And lay new platforms to endamage them.

Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying “A Talbot! a Talbot!” They fly, leaving their clothes behind. Soldier

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. Bedford

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.

Talbot

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

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