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.
JOAN LA PUCELLE
8 Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee.
Here they fight
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.
They fight again
JOAN LA PUCELLE
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.