ALENCON
He may mean more than we poor men do know:
These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.
REIGNIER
My lord, where are you? what devise you on?
Shall we give over Orleans, or no?
PUCELLE
Why, no, I say; distrustful recreants!
Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard.
CHARLES
What she says I'll confirm: we'll fight it out:
PUCELLE
Assign'd am I to be the English scourge.
This night the siege assuredly I 'll raise:
Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days,
Since I have entered into these wars.
Glory is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself
Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought.
With Henry's death the English circle ends;
Dispersed are the glories it included.
Now am I like that proud insulting ship
Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once.
CHARLES
Was Mahomet inspired with a dove?
Thou with an eagle art inspired then.
Helen, the mother of great Constantine,
Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters, were like thee.
Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth,
How may I reverently worship thee enough?
ALENCON
Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.
REIGNIER
Woman, do what thou canst to save our honors;
Drive them from Orleans and be immortalized.
CHARLES
Presently we 'll try: come, let's away about it:
No prophet will I trust, if she prove false.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III
London. Before the Tower.
[Enter the Duke of Gloucester, with his Serving-men in blue coats.]
GLOUCESTER
I am come to survey the Tower this day:
Since Henry's death, I fear, there is conveyance.
Where be these warders that they wait not here?
Open the gates; 'tis Gloucester that calls.
FIRST WARDER
[Within] Who's there that knocks so imperiously?
FIRST SERVING-MAN
It is the noble Duke of Gloucester.
SECOND WARDER
[Within] Whoe'er he be, you may not be let in.
FIRST SERVING-MAN
Villains, answer you so the lord protector?
FIRST WARDER
[Within] The Lord protect him! so we answer him:
We do no otherwise than we are will'd.
GLOUCESTER
Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine?
There's none protector of the realm but I.
Break up the gates, I 'll be your warrantize:
Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms?
Gloucester's men rush at the Tower Gates, and Woodvile the
Lieutenant speaks within.