ordain'd his special governor, And for his safety there I'll best devise. Each hath his place and function to attend: I am left out; for me nothing remains. But long I will not be Jack out of office: The king from Eltham I intend to steal And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens So in the earth, to this day is not known: Late did he shine upon the English side; Now we are victors; upon us he smiles. What towns of any moment but we have? At pleasure here we lie near Orleans; Otherwhiles the famish'd English, like pale ghosts, Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. They want their porridge and their fat bull-beeves: Either they must be dieted like mules And have their provender tied to their mouths Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice. Let's raise the siege: why live we idly here? Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear: Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury; And he may well in fretting spend his gall, Nor men nor money hath he to make war. Sound, sound alarum! we will rush on them. Now for the honour of the forlorn French! Him I forgive my death that killeth me When he sees me go back one foot or fly. Who ever saw the like? what men have I! Dogs! cowards! dastards! I would ne'er have fled, But that they left me 'midst my enemies. Salisbury is a desperate homicide; He fighteth as one weary of his life. The other lords, like lions wanting food, Do rush upon us as their hungry prey. Froissart, a countryman of ours, records, England all Olivers and Rowlands bred, During the time Edward the Third did reign. More truly now may this be verified; For none but Samsons and Goliases It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten! Lean, raw-boned rascals! who would e'er suppose They had such courage and audacity? Let's leave this town; for they are hare-brain'd slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager: Of old I know them; rather with their teeth The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege. I think, by some odd gimmors or device Their arms are set like clocks, stiff to strike on; Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do. By my consent, we'll even let them alone. Be it so. Where's the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us. Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd: Hath the late