ACT FOURTH
7. SCENE VII. Another part of the field.
(continued)
LUCY.
Is Talbot slain, the Frenchman's only scourge,
Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but can these dead to life!
It were enough to fright the realm of France:
Were but his picture left amongst you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence
And give them burial as beseems their worth.
PUCELLE.
I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit,
For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep them here,
They would but stink, and putrify the air.
CHARLES.
Go, take their bodies hence.
LUCY.
I 'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall be
rear'd
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
CHARLES.
So we be rid of them, do with 'em what thou wilt.
And now to Paris, in this conquering vein:
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.
[Exeunt.]
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