‘Thou maiden youth, be vanquish’d by a maid:’
[♦] But, with a proud majestical high scorn,
40 He answer’d thus: ‘Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench:’
[♦] So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
Bur. Doubtless he would have made a noble knight:
45 See, where he lies inhearsed in the arms
[♦] Of the most bloody nurser of his harms!
Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,