Xaint. Wherever thou shalt lead—be it to death!
[Exeunt.
Enter English Officers and Soldiers.
Make prisoner of the maid! touch not her life
Unless compelled. Ne'er quail and look aghast!
She waves no consecrated banner now!
See Valancour retreats!—now hem her round.
[Exeunt.
Enter Xaintrailles and Joan.
Xaint. Thou'rt wounded!
Joan. Heed it not! tarry no longer;
'Tis of slight moment. Du Nois!—this faintness—
Leave me here. Cut through thy way to join him,
And all may yet be well!
Xaint. 'Tis our last chance.
Joan. Save him, Heaven! never more shall I behold him!
Oh! I am faint almost to death!