Sirrah, thou know’st how Orleans is besieged,

And how the English have the suburbs won.

Father, I know; and oft have shot at them,

Howe’er unfortunate I miss’d my aim.

But now thou shalt not. Be thou ruled by me.

Chief master-gunner am I of this town;

Something I must do to procure me grace.

The Prince’s espials have informed me

How the English, in the suburbs close intrench’d,

Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars

In yonder tower, to overpeer the city,

And thence discover how with most advantage

They may vex us with shot or with assault.

To intercept this inconvenience,

A piece of ordnance ’gainst it I have placed

And even these three days have I watch’d,

If I could see them.

Now do thou watch, for I can stay no longer.

If thou spy’st any, run and bring me word;

And thou shalt find me at the Governor’s.

Father, I warrant you; take you no care;

I’ll never trouble you if I may spy them.

Thomas Gargrave and others.

Talbot, my life, my joy, again return’d!

How wert thou handled, being prisoner?

Or by what means got’st thou to be releas’d?

Discourse, I prithee, on this turret’s top.

The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner

Call’d the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles;

For him was I exchanged and ransomed.

But with a baser man of arms by far

Once in contempt they would have barter’d me,

Which I disdaining scorn’d, and craved death

Rather than I would be so vile-esteem’d.

In fine, redeem’d I was as I desired.

But O, the treacherous Fastolf wounds my heart,

Whom with my bare fists I would execute

If I now had him brought into my power.

Yet tell’st thou not how thou wert entertain’d.

With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts.

In open market-place produced they me

To be a public spectacle to all.

Here, said they, is the terror of the French,

The scarecrow that affrights our children so.

Then broke I from the officers that led me,

And with my nails digg’d stones out of the ground

To hurl at the beholders of my shame.

My grisly countenance made others fly;

None durst come near for fear of sudden death.

In iron walls they deem’d me not secure;

So great fear of my name ’mongst them were spread

That they supposed I could rend bars of steel

And spurn in pieces posts of adamant.

Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had,

That walk’d about me every minute while;

And if I did but stir out of my bed,

Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

I grieve to hear what torments you endured,

But we will be revenged sufficiently.

Now it is supper-time in Orleans.

Here, through this grate, I count each one

And view the Frenchmen how they fortify.

Let us look in; the sight will much delight thee.

Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glansdale,

Let me have your express opinions

Where is best place to make our battery next.

I think, at the north gate, for there stand lords.

And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge.

For aught I see, this city must be famish’d,

Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.

Here they shoot, and Salisbury and Gargrave fall down.

O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!

O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man!

What chance is this that suddenly hath cross’d us?

Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak!

How far’st thou, mirror of all martial men?

One of thy eyes and thy cheek’s side struck off!

Accursed tower, accursed fatal hand

That hath contrived this woeful tragedy!

In thirteen battles Salisbury o’ercame;

Henry the Fifth he first train’d to the wars;

Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up,

His sword did ne’er leave striking in the field.

Yet liv’st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail,

One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace.

The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.

Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive,

If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!

Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?

Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.

Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.

Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort,

Thou shalt not die whiles—

He beckons with his hand and smiles on me,

As who should say “When I am dead and gone,

Remember to avenge me on the French.”

Plantagenet, I will; and, like thee, Nero,

Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn.

Wretched shall France be only in thy name.

What stir is this? What tumult’s in the heavens?

Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?

My lord, my lord, the French have gather’d head.

The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join’d,

A holy prophetess new risen up,

Is come with a great power to raise the siege.

Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth groan;

It irks his heart he cannot be revenged.

Frenchmen, I’ll be a Salisbury to you.

Pucelle or puzel, dolphin or dogfish,

Your hearts I’ll stamp out with my horse’s heels

And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.

Convey we Salisbury into his tent,

And then we’ll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.