These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen,

3.2.21425Through which our policy must make a breach.

3.2.31426Take heed. Be wary how you place your words.

3.2.41427Talk like the vulgar sort of market men

3.2.51428That come to gather money for their corn.

3.2.61429If we have entrance, as I hope we shall,

3.2.71430And that we find the slothful watch but weak,

3.2.81431I'll by a sign give notice to our friends,

3.2.91432That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.

Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,

3.2.111434And we be lords and rulers over Rouen.

3.2.121435Therefore we'll knock.

Qui là.

Paysans, la pauvre gens de France:

3.2.151438Poor market folks that come to sell their corn.

Enter, go in, the market bell is rung.

Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the 1441ground.

Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem,

3.2.191444And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen.

Here entered Pucelle and her practisants.

3.2.211446Now she is there, how will she specify

3.2.221447"Here is the best and safest passage in"?

By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower;

3.2.241449Which, once discerned, shows that her meaning is:

3.2.251450No way to that, for weakness, which she entered.

Behold, this is the happy wedding torch

3.2.281454That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen,

3.2.291455But burning fatal to the Talbonites.

See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend.

3.2.311457The burning torch in yonder turret stands.

Now shine it like a comet of revenge.

3.2.331459A prophet to the fall of all our foes.

Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends.

3.2.351461Enter and cry, "The Dauphin", presently,

3.2.361462And then do execution on the watch.

France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,

3.2.381465If Talbot but survive thy treachery.

3.2.391466Pucelle, that witch, that damnèd sorceress,

3.2.401467Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,

3.2.411468That hardly we escaped the pride of France.

Good morrow gallants. Want ye corn for bread?

3.2.431474I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast

3.2.441475Before he'll buy again at such a rate.

3.2.451476'Twas full of darnel. Do you like the taste?

Scoff on, vile fiend, and shameless courtesan.

3.2.471478I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own,

3.2.481479And make thee curse the harvest of that corn.

Your grace may starve, perhaps, before that 1481time.

O let no words, but deeds, revenge this 1483treason.

What will you do, good grey-beard? 1485Break a lance

3.2.521486And run a-tilt at death within a chair?

Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite,

3.2.541488Encompassed with thy lustful paramours,

3.2.551489Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age

3.2.561490And twit with cowardice a man half dead?

3.2.571491Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again,

3.2.581492Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.

Are ye so hot, sir? Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace.

3.2.601494If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.

3.2.611496God speed the parliament; who shall be the Speaker?

Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?

Belike your lordship takes us then for fools,

3.2.641499To try if that our own be ours or no.

I speak not to that railing Hecate,

3.2.661501But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest.

3.2.671502Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?

Seigneur, no.

Seigneur, hang. Base muleteers of France,

3.2.701505Like peasant footboys do they keep the walls

3.2.711506And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.

Away, captains, let's get us from the walls,

3.2.731508For Talbot means no goodness by his looks.

3.2.741509Goodbye, my Lord. We came but to tell you

3.2.751510That we are here.

And there will we be, too, ere it be long,

3.2.771512Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame.

3.2.781513Vow Burgundy, by honor of thy house,

3.2.791514Pricked on by public wrongs sustained in France,

3.2.801515Either to get the town again, or die.

3.2.811516And I, as sure as English Henry lives,

3.2.821517And as his father here was conqueror;

3.2.831518As sure as in this late betrayèd town,

3.2.841519Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buryèd,

3.2.851520So sure I swear to get the town or die.

My vows are equal partners with thy 1522vows.

But ere we go, regard this dying prince,

3.2.881524The valiant Duke of Bedford. [To Bedford.] Come, my lord,

3.2.891525We will bestow you in some better place,

3.2.901526Fitter for sickness and for crazy age.

Lord Talbot, do not so dishonor me.

3.2.921528Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen,

3.2.931529And will be partner of your weal or woe.

Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you.

Not to be gone from hence; for once I read

3.2.961532That stout Pendragon, in his litter sick,

3.2.971533Came to the field and vanquishèd his foes.

3.2.981534Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts,

3.2.991535Because I ever found them as myself.

Undaunted spirit in a dying breast.

3.2.1011537Then be it so; heavens keep old Bedford safe.

3.2.1021538And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,

3.2.1031539But gather we our forces out of hand,

3.2.1041540And set upon our boasting enemy.

Whither away, Sir John Falstaff, in such haste?

Whither away? To save myself by flight.

3.2.1071545We are like to have the overthrow again.

What, will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot?

Aye, all the Talbots in the world, to save my life.

Cowardly knight, ill fortune follow thee.

Now quiet soul, depart when heaven please,

3.2.1121554For I have seen our enemy's overthrow.

3.2.1131555What is the trust or strength of foolish man?

3.2.1141556They that of late were daring with their scoffs

3.2.1151557Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves.

Lost and recovered in a day again.

3.2.1171562This is a double honor, Burgundy;

3.2.1181563Yet heavens have glory for this victory.

Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy

3.2.1201565Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects

3.2.1211566Thy noble deeds as valor's monuments.

Thanks, gentle Duke. But where is Pucelle now?

3.2.1231568I think her old familiar is asleep.

3.2.1241569Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?

3.2.1251570What all amort? Rouen hangs her head for grief

3.2.1261571That such a valiant company are fled.

3.2.1271572Now will we take some order in the town,

3.2.1281573Placing therein some expert officers,

3.2.1291574And then depart to Paris, to the King,

3.2.1301575For there young Henry with his nobles lie.

What wills lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy.

But yet, before we go, let's not forget

3.2.1331578The noble Duke of Bedford late deceased,

3.2.1341579But see his exequies fulfilled in Rouen.

3.2.1351580A braver soldier never couchèd lance;

3.2.1361581A gentler heart did never sway in court.

3.2.1371582But kings and mightiest potentates must die,

3.2.1381583For that's the end of human misery.