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In memory of her, when she is dead,
Her ashes, in an urn more precious
Than the rich-jeweld coffer of Darius *,
Transported shall be at high festivals
Before the kings and queens of France.
No longer on Saint Dennis 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.

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Enter to the Gates, a French Sergeant, and Two

Sentinels. Sery. 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 ?. 1 Sent. 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.

commended of the pyramids. Ælian relates that she married Psammetichus, king of Egypt, who fell in love with her sandal, which was dropped near him by an eagle, which had carried it off while she was bathing.

4 « In what price the noble poems of Homer were holden by Alexander the Great, insomuch that everie night they were layd under his pillow, and by day were carried in the rich jewel coffer of Darius, lately before vanquished by him.' Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, 1589.

| The same as guard-room.

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Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and

Forces, with Scaling Ladders; their Drums beat-
ing a dead March.

Tal. Lord regent,--and redoubted Burgundy,
By whose approach, the regions of Artois,
Walloon, and Picardy, are friends to us,
This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
Having all day carous'd and banqueted:
Embrace we then this opportunity;
As fitting best to quittance their deceit,
Contriv’d by art,

and baleful

sorcery. Bed. 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.

Bur. Traitors have never other company.-
But what's that Pucelle, whom they term so pure?

Tal. A maid, they say.
Bed.

A maid! and be so martial!
Bur. Pray God, she prove not masculine ere long;
If underneath the standard of the French,
She carry armour as she hath begun.
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 by 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 unready.
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 follow'd arms, Never heard I of a warlike enterprise More venturous, or desperate than this.

Bast. I think, this Talbot be a fiend of hell. 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? 2 Unready is undressed. Thus in Chapman's Monsieur D'Olive, 1606, “You are not going to bed; I see you are not yet unready.' A stage direction in The Two Maids of Moreclock, 1609, says • Enter James unready, in his nightcap, garterless.' So in Cotgrave, ' Deshabiller, to unclothe, make unreddie, put or take off clothes.'

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.

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 surpris'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 3 to endamage them.

Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying a Tal

bot! 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.

3 Plans, schemes.

SCENE II. Orleans.

Within the Town.

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Cap

tain, 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)

i Wonder.

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