[Exit.]
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.]
SCENE VI. Orleans.
Flourish. Enter on the walls La Pucelle, Charles, Reignier, Alençon and Soldiers.
PUCELLE.
Advance our waving colours on the walls;
Rescued is Orleans from the English.
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform’d her word.