University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

—The ground between Orleans and the English lines. On the right extending into the half distance a section of the wall, erected by the besiegers, and strengthened by forts at intervals. On the left the gates of the town. Over the walls on the right are seen the English tents, and the distant hills. The respective flags float from the battlements.
Enter Talbot and Lionel R. with English troops, receiving The Queen, with her attendants and forces.
Tal.
Your Majesty is come in happy time
To see the town of Orleans rendered up.
Safe are you here some minutes by the truce,
But when the bell tolls for the even song,
The dire assault of war once more begins,
Unless their lives be yielded to our mercy.

Isa.
(C)
You know what mercy, lords, to shew to traitors,
Let them ask mercy of your soldiery,
Smarting with wounds, and heated by their toil,
And let their wrath reply.

Lion.
Madam, in pity—

Isa.
(R.)
Pity! but you are young, and beardless boys,
Have thoughts like smooth-cheeked maidens.

Lion.
Gracious madam,
My sword hath not been wielded to deserve
A taunt.

Isa.
Then let your heart be tempered like it.

Tal.
Rouen and Caen, and many a town have felt,
That vengeance stays not while it finds a foe
Alive to suffer, and so perish all
Within this Orleans!

Isa.
All the town shall be
Their charnel-house, and our hate's monument,
Nor can the poor slaves satisfy the loathing,
My son inherits from the idiot father,
Into whose arms my treacherous fortune thrust me.
Open yon gate. (The Fort.)
Shew ye the deeds of men,
Or I'll return and shame you with a woman's

Tal.
Double the sentinels, that not one chance
Of an escape be left them. I'll not spare
A man of them.

Sentinels are placed by the English line. Isabel, Salisbury, and all the party retire L. to the forts, leaving Raimond, who entered in The Queen's train.
Rai.
The truce will end, our friends will hopeless yield,
These watch, how can I speed the letter?

Sent.
Friend,
To stay here is a post of danger, soon
The bell will toll, and then the first are sure
To meet with fatal blows,

Rai.
A man must do
His duty, and for that he must not care
What dangers wait on it.

Sent.
Well! take your chance.

Rai.
Are you a marksman? I would wager now
I'd hit the pinnacle of yonder tower.

Sent.
'Tis truce, you must not shoot into the town,
Soon you'll have need enough for all your arrows.

Rai.
Only in sport. This arrow's blunt, look here.
(Fires)
I've miss'd, I'll try again.

Sent.
(Turning on his beat.)
Peace! Thoughtless boy,
No more of this; you must learn dicipline

Rai.
Now for the letter? (Fixes it on his arrow.)
Speed Thou hope of France!

Sent.
I bid thee not to shoot.

2nd. Sent.
(From the English walls.)
He fixed a paper,
To his last arrow. I'll call up the captains,
This is a traitor.

(Disappears from the wall.)
Sent.
Ha! is that the sport?
You'll yield your life still sooner than I thought.

Rai.
Why now, I cannot yield my life too soon,
For its last use is sped.

Talbot, Lionel, and some English re-enter, R.
Tal.
A spy! an emissary! how now, sirrah!—
How came you hither?

Rai.
With the Queen!

Tal.
The Queen,
Where are her captains? Say what leader knows thee
Whom dost thou serve? Speak!

Rai.
France.

2nd. Sent.
I saw him fix
A letter to his arrow, which he shot
Yonder into the town.

Tal.
Thou art a traitor,
Thou did'st not shoot him dead e'er he could fire it,
Sirrah, we'll place thee as a mark against
Yon walls, and many a wound shall bring thee torment,
Ere death release thee, if thou tell us not,
All thou hast done, and wherefore, and the tidings
Thou'st sped into the town.

Rai.
Lead me to death—
Or to the torture that may make me hope it,
And be my sufferings the first sacrifice
For my regenerate country. Know I've sped
Intelligence of vengeance swift and terrible,
Ready to burst on tyrants. (Thunder.)
Listen lord,
To this type of an iron storm. Ah love!
I perish for thee gladly! France farewell!
Thou wilt be happy, but thou hast no joy
For me to share—'tis fit that I should die.
Lead on!

Lion.
Poor youth!

Ria.
Your queen, your friends will mock you
And I ask not compassion. I would cast
Burthensome life away, and you make death
A triumph. On! (Bell tolls.)


Tal.
To arms! the truce is ended!
Sound parley to the walls.
(Trumpet sounds, Citizens appear in armour on the wall.)
Now, yield ye, villains,
To your liege lord, and proffer him your lives,
Or perish in the assault ye cannot stem.

Citizen.
We will not yield, famine or sword may slay us,
But we'll die true to France, and to our king!

Tal.
Behold the fate that waits on each of you,
Bind him, and draw your bows, and shew your skill
To eke out life in torments. (Distant shouts to L.)
Ho! to arms!
They bring more Frenchmen to our willing swords!

Battle—Second Tableau of Vision.