Act I, Scene 5

The same.

[Here an alarum again: and TALBOT pursueth the] [p]DAUPHIN, and driveth him: then enter JOAN LA [p]PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her, and exit [p]after them then re-enter TALBOT]

• Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury. Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? 580
  Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them:
  A woman clad in armour chaseth them.
  [Re-enter JOAN LA PUCELLE]
  Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee;
  Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee: 585
  Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch,
  And straightway give thy soul to him thou servest.

• Joan la Pucelle. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee.

[Here they fight]

• Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail? 590
  My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage
  And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder.
  But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.

[They fight again]

• Joan la Pucelle. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come: 595
  I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
  [A short alarum; then enter the town with soldiers]
  O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.
  Go, go, cheer up thy hungry-starved men;
  Help Salisbury to make his testament: 600
  This day is ours, as many more shall be.

[Exit]

• Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel;
  I know not where I am, nor what I do;
  A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal, 605
  Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists:
  So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench
  Are from their hives and houses driven away.
  They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs;
  Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. 610
  [A short alarum]
  Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight,
  Or tear the lions out of England's coat;
  Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead:
  Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf, 615
  Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
  As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.
  [Alarum. Here another skirmish]
  It will not be: retire into your trenches:
  You all consented unto Salisbury's death, 620
  For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
  Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans,
  In spite of us or aught that we could do.
  O, would I were to die with Salisbury!
  The shame hereof will make me hide my head. 625

[Exit TALBOT. Alarum; retreat; flourish]