Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age,
55 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.
[♦] Puc. Are ye so hot, sir? yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;
[♦] If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. [The English whisper together in council.
[60] God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker?
Tal. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?
Puc. Belike your lordship takes us then for fools,
To try if that our own be ours or no.