Bast. Mine was secure
Reig. And so was mine, my Lord
Charl. And for my selfe, most part of all this Night Within her Quarter, and mine owne Precinct, I was imploy'd in passing to and fro, About relieuing of the Centinels. Then how, or which way, should they first breake in? Ioane. Question (my Lords) no further of the case, How or which way; 'tis sure they found some place, But weakely guarded, where the breach was made: And now there rests no other shift but this, To gather our Souldiors, scatter'd and disperc't, And lay new Platformes to endammage them.
Alarum. Enter a Souldier, crying, a Talbot, a Talbot: they flye, leauing their Clothes behind.
Sould. Ile be so bold to take what they haue left: The Cry of Talbot serues me for a Sword, For I haue loaden me with many Spoyles, Vsing no other Weapon but his Name. Enter.
Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundie.
Bedf. The Day begins to breake, and Night is fled, Whose pitchy Mantle ouer-vayl'd the Earth. Here sound Retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.
Talb. Bring forth the Body of old Salisbury, And here aduance it in the Market-Place, The middle Centure of this cursed Towne. Now haue I pay'd my Vow vnto his Soule: For euery drop of blood was drawne from him, There hath at least fiue Frenchmen dyed to night. And that hereafter Ages may behold What ruine happened in reuenge of him, Within their chiefest Temple Ile erect A Tombe, wherein his Corps shall be interr'd: Vpon the which, that euery one may reade, Shall be engrau'd the sacke of Orleance, The trecherous manner of his mournefull death, And what a terror he had beene to France. But Lords, in all our bloudy Massacre, I muse we met not with the Dolphins Grace, His new-come Champion, vertuous Ioane of Acre, Nor any of his false Confederates
Bedf. 'Tis thought Lord Talbot, when the fight began, Rows'd on the sudden from their drowsie Beds, They did amongst the troupes of armed men, Leape o're the Walls for refuge in the field
Burg. My selfe, as farre as I could well discerne, For smoake, and duskie vapours of the night, Am sure I scar'd the Dolphin and his Trull, When Arme in Arme they both came swiftly running, Like to a payre of louing Turtle-Doues, That could not liue asunder day or night. After that things are set in order here, Wee'le follow them with all the power we haue. Enter a Messenger.
Mess. All hayle, my Lords: which of this Princely trayne Call ye the Warlike Talbot, for his Acts So much applauded through the Realme of France? Talb. Here is the Talbot, who would speak with him? Mess. The vertuous Lady, Countesse of Ouergne, With modestie admiring thy Renowne, By me entreats (great Lord) thou would'st vouchsafe To visit her poore Castle where she lyes, That she may boast she hath beheld the man, Whose glory fills the World with lowd report
Burg. Is it euen so? Nay, then I see our Warres Will turne vnto a peacefull Comick sport, When Ladyes craue to be encountred with. You may not (my Lord) despise her gentle suit
Talb. Ne're trust me then: for when a World of men Could not preuayle with all their Oratorie, Yet hath a Womans kindnesse ouer-rul'd: And therefore tell her, I returne great thankes, And in submission will attend on her. Will not your Honors beare me company? Bedf. No, truly, 'tis more then manners will: And I haue heard it sayd, Vnbidden Guests Are often welcommest when they are gone