Page 240 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 240
BURGUNDY
Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtesan! [45]
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 greybeard? Break a lance [50]
And run a-tilt at Death within a chair?
T ALBOT
Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite,
Encompassed with thy lustful paramours,
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age
And twit with cowardice a man half dead? [55]
Damsel, I’ll have a bout with you again,
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.
PUCELLE
Are ye so hot, sir? - Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.
They [the English] whisper together in council.
God speed the parliament! Who shall be the speaker? [60]
T ALBOT
Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?
PUCELLE
Belike your lordship takes us then for fools,
To try if that our own be ours or no.
T ALBOT
I speak not to that railing Hecate,
But unto thee, Alençon, and the rest. [65]
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?
