MASTER-GUNNER. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is

    besieg'd,

    And how the English have the suburbs won.

  BOY. Father, I know; and oft have shot at them,

    Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim.

  MASTER-GUNNER. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd

    by me.

    Chief master-gunner am I of this town;

    Something I must do to procure me grace.

    The Prince's espials have informed me

    How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd,

    Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars

    In yonder tower, to overpeer the city,

    And thence discover how with most advantage

    They may vex us with shot or with assault.

    To intercept this inconvenience,

    A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd;

    And even these three days have I watch'd

    If I could see them. Now do thou watch,

    For I can stay no longer.

    If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word;

    And thou shalt find me at the Governor's. Exit

  BOY. Father, I warrant you; take you no care;

    I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them. Exit

  SALISBURY. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd!

    How wert thou handled being prisoner?

    Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd?

    Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top.

  TALBOT. The Earl of Bedford had a prisoner

    Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles;

    For him was I exchang'd and ransomed.

    But with a baser man of arms by far

    Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd me;

    Which I disdaining scorn'd, and craved death

    Rather than I would be so vile esteem'd.

    In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd.

    But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart

    Whom with my bare fists I would execute,

    If I now had him brought into my power.

  SALISBURY. Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd.

  TALBOT. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious taunts,

    In open market-place produc'd they me

    To be a public spectacle to all;

    Here, said they, is the terror of the French,

    The scarecrow that affrights our children so.

    Then broke I from the officers that led me,

    And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground

    To hurl at the beholders of my shame;

    My grisly countenance made others fly;

    None durst come near for fear of sudden death.

    In iron walls they deem'd me not secure;

    So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread

    That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel

    And spurn in pieces posts of adamant;

    Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had

    That walk'd about me every minute-while;

    And if I did but stir out of my bed,

    Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

  SALISBURY. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd;

    But we will be reveng'd sufficiently.

    Now it is supper-time in Orleans:

    Here, through this grate, I count each one

    And view the Frenchmen how they fortify.

    Let us look in; the sight will much delight thee.

    Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glansdale,

    Let me have your express opinions

    Where is best place to make our batt'ry next.

  GARGRAVE. I think at the North Gate; for there stand lords.

  GLANSDALE. And I here, at the bulwark of the bridge.

  TALBOT. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd,

    Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.

                     [Here they shoot and SALISBURY and GARGRAVE

                                                      fall down]

  SALISBURY. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!

  GARGRAVE. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man!

  TALBOT. What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd us?

    Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak.

    How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men?

    One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off!

    Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand

    That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy!

    In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame;

    Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars;

    Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up,

    His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field.

    Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail,

    One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace;

    The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.

    Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive

    If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!

    Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.

    Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?

    Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.

    Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort,

    Thou shalt not die whiles

    He beckons with his hand and smiles on me,

    As who should say 'When I am dead and gone,

    Remember to avenge me on the French.'

    Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero,

    Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn.

    Wretched shall France be only in my name.

                  [Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens]

    What stir is this? What tumult's in the heavens?

    Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?

  MESSENGER. My lord, my lord, the French have gather'd

    head

    The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd,

    A holy prophetess new risen up,

    Is come with a great power to raise the siege.

                  [Here SALISBURY lifteth himself up and groans]

  TALBOT. Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth groan.

    It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd.

    Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you.

    Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish,

    Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels

    And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.

    Convey me Salisbury into his tent,

    And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.

                                                  Alarum. Exeunt