TALBOT
Where is my strength, my valour, and my force?
Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them.
A woman clad in armour chaseth them.
TALBOT
Here, here she comes. I’ll have a bout with ;
Devil or devil’s dam, I’ll conjure .
Blood will I draw on , art a witch,
And straightway give soul to him serv’st.
PUCELLE
Come, come, only I that must disgrace .
TALBOT
Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?
My breast I’ll burst with straining of my courage,
And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder,
But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.
PUCELLE
Talbot, farewell; hour is not yet come.
I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
PUCELLE
O’ertake me, if canst. I scorn strength.
Go, go, cheer up hungry-starved men;
Help Salisbury to make his testament.
This day is ours, as many more shall be.
TALBOT
My thoughts are whirled like a potter’s wheel;
I know not where I am, nor what I do.
A witch by fear, not force, like Hannibal,
Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists.
So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench
Are from their hives and houses driven away.
They call’d us for our fierceness, English dogs;
Now like to whelps we crying run away.
TALBOT
Hark, countrymen, either renew the fight,
Or tear the lions out of England’s coat;
Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions’ stead.
Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf,
Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.
TALBOT
It will not be! Retire into your trenches.
You all consented unto Salisbury’s death,
For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
Pucelle is enter’d into Orleans,
In spite of us or that we could do.
O, would I were to die with Salisbury!
The shame hereof will make me hide my head.