Page 213 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 213
The treacherous manner of his mournful death, [Exit funeral.]
And what a terror he had been to France.
But, lords, in all our bloody massacre
I muse we met not with the dauphin’s grace,
His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc, [20]
Nor any of his false confederates.
BEDFORD
’Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began,
Roused on the sudden from their drowsy beds,
They did amongst the troops of armèd men
Leap o’er the walls for refuge in the field. [25]
BURGUNDY
Myself, as far as I could well discern
For smoke and dusky vapours of the night,
Am sure I scared the dauphin and his trull,
When arm in arm they both came swiftly running,
Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves [30]
That could not live asunder day or night.
After that things are set in order here,
We’ll follow them with all the power we have.
Enter a Messenger.
MESSENGER
All hail, my lords! Which of this princely train
Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts [35]
So much applauded through the realm of France?
T ALBOT
Here is the Talbot. Who would speak with him?
MESSENGER
The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne,
With modesty admiring thy renown,
By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe [40]
To visit her poor castle where she lies,
That she may boast she hath beheld the man