Document:  All > Shakespeare > Histories > King Henry VI, part I > Act I, scene V

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

TALBOT: Where is my strength, my valour, and my force?
	Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them:
	A woman clad in armour chaseth them.


	Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee;
	Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee:
	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]

TALBOT: Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?
	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:
	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:
	This day is ours, as many more shall be.


TALBOT: 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,
	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.

	[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,
	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,
	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.

	[Exit TALBOT. Alarum; retreat; flourish]


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