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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.


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. "T is 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 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.

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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
Capt. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly.




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.

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.

Madam, according as your ladyship desir'd

By message crav'd, so is lord Talbot come.

Count. And he is welcome.

Mess. Madam, it is.


What! is this the man?

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,

And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs.
Alas! this is a child, a silly dwarf:

It cannot be, this weak and writhled shrimp
Should strike such terror to his enemies.

Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you;

But, since your ladyship is not at leisure,

I'll sort some other time to visit you.

Count. What means he now?




Go ask him, whither he

Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady craves

To know the cause of your abrupt departure.

Tal. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,

I go to certify her Talbot's here.

Re-enter Porter, with Keys.

Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.
Tal. Prisoner! to whom?


To me, blood-thirsty lord;

And for that cause I train'd thee to my house.
Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me,
For in my gallery thy picture hangs;

But now the substance shall endure the like,
And I will chain these legs and arms of thine,
That hast by tyranny these many years,
Wasted our country, slain our citizens,

And sent our sons and husbands captivate.

Tal. Ha, ha, ha!

Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn to moan. Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond.

To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow,

Whereon to practise your severity.

Count. Why, art not thou the man?

Count. Then have I substance too.

I am indeed.

Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself:
You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here;
For what you see, is but the smallest part
And least proportion of humanity.

I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here,
It is of such a spacious lofty pitch,

Your roof were not sufficient to contain it.

Count. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce;

He will be here, and yet he is not here:

How can these contrarieties agree?

Tal. That will I show you presently.

He winds his Horn. Drums strike up; a Peal of Ordnance. The Gates being forced, enter Soldiers.

How say you, madam? are you now persuaded,

That Talbot is but shadow of himself?

These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength,
With which he yoketh your rebellious necks,
Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns,
And in a moment makes them desolate.


Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my
I find, thou art no less than fame hath bruited,
And more than may be gather'd by thy shape.
Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath;
For I am sorry, that with reverence

I did not entertain thee as thou art.

Tal. Be not dismay'd, ́ fair lady; nor misconstrue
The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake

The outward composition of his body.
What you have done hath not offended me:

No other satisfaction do I crave,

But only, with your patience, that we may

Taste of your wine, and see what cates you have;

For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.

Count. With all my heart; and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house.


London. The Temple Garden.


Enter the Earls of SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK ;
RICHARD PLANtagenet, VERNON, and a Lawyer.

Plan. Great lords, and gentlemen, what means this silence? Dare no man answer in a case of truth?

Suf. Within the Temple hall we were too loud:

The garden here is more convenient.

Plan. Then say at once; if I maintain'd the truth,

Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error?

Suf. 'Faith, I have been a truant in the law,

And never yet could frame my will to it;

And, therefore, frame the law unto my will.

Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then, between us.

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