An alarum. Enter Talbot in an excursion.
TALBOT.
France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery.
Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
That hardly we escaped the pride of France.
[Exit.]
An alarum. Excursions. Bedford, brought in sick in a chair. Enter Talbot and Burgundy without: within, La Pucelle, Charles, Bastard, Alençon, and Reignier on the walls.
PUCELLE.
Good morrow, gallants! Want ye corn for bread?
I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast
Before he’ll buy again at such a rate.
’Twas full of darnel. Do you like the taste?
BURGUNDY.
Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtezan!
I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own,
And make thee curse the harvest of that corn.
CHARLES.
Your Grace may starve, perhaps, before that time.
BEDFORD.
O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason!
PUCELLE.
What will you do, good graybeard? Break a lance
And run a tilt at Death within a chair?
TALBOT.
Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite,
Encompass’d with thy lustful paramours,
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age
And twit with cowardice a man half dead?
Damsel, I’ll have a bout with you again,
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.