1    Where is my strength, my valour, and my force?
2    Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them:
3    A woman clad in armour chaseth them.
Re-enter JOAN LA PUCELLE
4    Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee;
5    Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee:
6    Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch,
7    And straightway give thy soul to him thou servest.

8    Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee.

9    Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?
10   My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage
11   And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder.
12   But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.

13   Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come:
14   I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
A short alarum; then enter the town with soldiers
15   O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.
16   Go, go, cheer up thy hungry-starved men;
17   Help Salisbury to make his testament:
18   This day is ours, as many more shall be.

19   My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel;
20   I know not where I am, nor what I do;
21   A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal,
22   Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists:
23   So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench
24   Are from their hives and houses driven away.
25   They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs;
26   Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.
A short alarum
27   Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight,
28   Or tear the lions out of England's coat;
29   Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead:
30   Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf,
31   Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
32   As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.
Alarum. Here another skirmish
33   It will not be: retire into your trenches:
34   You all consented unto Salisbury's death,
35   For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
36   Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans,
37   In spite of us or aught that we could do.
38   O, would I were to die with Salisbury!
39   The shame hereof will make me hide my head.