Bedf. Lord Talbot, doe not so dishonour me: Here will I sit, before the Walls of Roan, And will be partner of your weale or woe
Burg. Couragious Bedford, let vs now perswade you
Bedf. Not to be gone from hence: for once I read, That stout Pendragon, in his Litter sick, Came to the field, and vanquished his foes.
Me thinkes I should reuiue the Souldiors hearts, Because I euer found them as my selfe
Talb. Vndaunted spirit in a dying breast, Then be it so: Heauens keepe old Bedford safe.
And now no more adoe, braue Burgonie, But gather we our Forces out of hand, And set vpon our boasting Enemie.
Enter.
An Alarum: Excursions. Enter Sir Iohn Falstaffe, and a Captaine.
Capt. Whither away Sir Iohn Falstaffe, in such haste?
Falst. Whither away? to saue my selfe by flight, We are like to haue the ouerthrow againe
Capt. What? will you flye, and leaue Lord Talbot?
Falst. I, all the Talbots in the World, to saue my life.
Enter.
Capt. Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee.
Enter.
Retreat. Excursions. Pucell, Alanson, and Charles flye.
Bedf. Now quiet Soule, depart when Heauen please, For I haue seene our Enemies ouerthrow.
What is the trust or strength of foolish man?
They that of late were daring with their scoffes, Are glad and faine by flight to saue themselues.
Bedford dyes, and is carryed in by two in his Chaire.
An Alarum. Enter Talbot, Burgonie, and the rest.
Talb. Lost, and recouered in a day againe, This is a double Honor, Burgonie: Yet Heauens haue glory for this Victorie
Burg. Warlike and Martiall Talbot, Burgonie Inshrines thee in his heart, and there erects Thy n.o.ble Deeds, as Valors Monuments
Talb. Thanks gentle Duke: but where is Pucel now?
I thinke her old Familiar is asleepe.
Now where"s the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds braues, and Charles his glikes?
What all amort? Roan hangs her head for griefe, That such a valiant Company are fled.
Now will we take some order in the Towne, Placing therein some expert Officers, And then depart to Paris, to the King, For there young Henry with his n.o.bles lye
Burg. What wills Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgonie
Talb. But yet before we goe, let"s not forget The n.o.ble Duke of Bedford, late deceas"d, But see his Exequies fulfill"d in Roan.
A brauer Souldier neuer couched Launce, A gentler Heart did neuer sway in Court.
But Kings and mightiest Potentates must die, For that"s the end of humane miserie.
Exeunt.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Charles, b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Alanson, Pucell.
Pucell. Dismay not (Princes) at this accident, Nor grieue that Roan is so recouered: Care is no cure, but rather corrosiue, For things that are not to be remedy"d.
Let frantike Talbot triumph for a while, And like a Peac.o.c.k sweepe along his tayle, Wee"le pull his Plumes, and take away his Trayne, If Dolphin and the rest will be but rul"d
Charles. We haue been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy Cunning had no diffidence, One sudden Foyle shall neuer breed distrust
b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Search out thy wit for secret pollicies, And we will make thee famous through the World
Alans. Wee"le set thy Statue in some holy place, And haue thee reuerenc"t like a blessed Saint.
Employ thee then, sweet Virgin, for our good
Pucell. Then thus it must be, this doth Ioane deuise: By faire perswasions, mixt with sugred words, We will entice the Duke of Burgonie To leaue the Talbot, and to follow vs
Charles. I marry Sweeting, if we could doe that, France were no place for Henryes Warriors, Nor should that Nation boast it so with vs, But be extirped from our Prouinces
Alans. For euer should they be expuls"d from France, And not haue t.i.tle of an Earledome here
Pucell. Your Honors shall perceiue how I will worke, To bring this matter to the wished end.
Drumme sounds a farre off.
Hearke, by the sound of Drumme you may perceiue Their Powers are marching vnto Paris-ward.
Here sound an English March.
There goes the Talbot with his Colours spred, And all the Troupes of English after him.
French March.
Now in the Rereward comes the Duke and his: Fortune in fauor makes him lagge behinde.
Summon a Parley, we will talke with him.
Trumpets sound a Parley.
Charles. A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie
Burg. Who craues a Parley with the Burgonie?
Pucell. The Princely Charles of France, thy Countreyman
Burg. What say"st thou Charles? for I am marching hence
Charles. Speake Pucell, and enchaunt him with thy words
Pucell. Braue Burgonie, vndoubted hope of France, Stay, let thy humble Hand-maid speake to thee