M.Gunner. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd by me: Chiefe Master Gunner am I of this Towne, Something I must doe to procure me grace: The Princes espyals haue informed me, How the English, in the Suburbs close entrencht, Went through a secret Grate of Iron Barres, In yonder Tower, to ouer-peere the Citie, And thence discouer, how with most aduantage They may vex vs with Shot or with Assault. To intercept this inconuenience, A Peece of Ordnance 'gainst it I haue plac'd, And euen these three dayes haue I watcht, If I could see them. Now doe thou watch, For I can stay no longer. If thou spy'st any, runne and bring me word, And thou shalt finde me at the Gouernors. Enter.
Boy. Father, I warrant you, take you no care, Ile neuer trouble you, if I may spye them. Enter.
Enter Salisbury and Talbot on the Turrets, with others.
Salisb. Talbot, my life, my ioy, againe return'd? How wert thou handled, being Prisoner? Or by what meanes got's thou to be releas'd? Discourse I prethee on this Turrets top
Talbot. The Earle of Bedford had a Prisoner, Call'd the braue Lord Ponton de Santrayle, For him was I exchang'd, and ransom'd. But with a baser man of Armes by farre, Once in contempt they would haue barter'd me: Which I disdaining, scorn'd, and craued death, Rather then I would be so pil'd esteem'd: In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd. But O, the trecherous Falstaffe wounds my heart, Whom with my bare fists I would execute, If I now had him brought into my power
Salisb. Yet tell'st thou not, how thou wert entertain'd
Tal. With scoffes and scornes, and contumelious taunts, In open Market-place produc't they me, To be a publique spectacle to all: Here, sayd they, is the Terror of the French, The Scar-Crow that affrights our Children so. Then broke I from the Officers that led me, And with my nayles digg'd stones out of the ground, To hurle at the beholders of my shame. My grisly countenance made others flye, None durst come neere, for feare of suddaine death. In Iron Walls they deem'd me not secure: So great feare of my Name 'mongst them were spread, That they suppos'd I could rend Barres of Steele, And spurne in pieces Posts of Adamant. Wherefore a guard of chosen Shot I had, That walkt about me euery Minute while: And if I did but stirre out of my Bed, Ready they were to shoot me to the heart. Enter the Boy with a Linstock.
Salisb. I grieue to heare what torments you endur'd, But we will be reueng'd sufficiently. Now it is Supper time in Orleance: Here, through this Grate, I count each one, And view the Frenchmen how they fortifie: Let vs looke in, the sight will much delight thee: Sir Thomas Gargraue, and Sir William Glansdale, Let me haue your expresse opinions, Where is best place to make our Batt'ry next? Gargraue. I thinke at the North Gate, for there stands Lords
Glansdale. And I heere, at the Bulwarke of the Bridge
Talb. For ought I see, this Citie must be famisht, Or with light Skirmishes enfeebled.
Here they shot, and Salisbury falls downe.
Salisb. O Lord haue mercy on vs, wretched sinners
Gargraue. O Lord haue mercy on me, wofull man
Talb. What chance is this, that suddenly hath crost vs? Speake Salisbury; at least, if thou canst, speake: How far'st thou, Mirror of all Martiall men? One of thy Eyes, and thy Cheekes side struck off? Accursed Tower, accursed fatall Hand, That hath contriu'd this wofull Tragedie. In thirteene Battailes, Salisbury o'recame: Henry the Fift he first trayn'd to the Warres. Whil'st any Trumpe did sound, or Drum struck vp, His Sword did ne're leaue striking in the field. Yet liu'st thou Salisbury? though thy speech doth fayle, One Eye thou hast to looke to Heauen for grace. The Sunne with one Eye vieweth all the World. Heauen be thou gracious to none aliue, If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands. Beare hence his Body, I will helpe to bury it. Sir Thomas Gargraue, hast thou any life? Speake vnto Talbot, nay, looke vp to him. Salisbury cheare thy Spirit with this comfort, Thou shalt not dye whiles- He beckens with his hand, and smiles on me: As who should say, When I am dead and gone, Remember to auenge me on the French. Plantaginet I will, and like thee, Play on the Lute, beholding the Townes burne: Wretched shall France be onely in my Name.