be insulted thus by foreigners? Why am I here to combat against France? If I must needs endure ingratitude, Let it come rather from my native king! TALBOT. You're in communication with the Dauphin, We know it well, but we soon shall find means To guard ourselves 'gainst treason. BURGUNDY. Death and hell! Am I encountered thus? Chatillon, hark! Let all my troops prepare to quit the camp. We will retire into our own domain.                 [CHATILLON goes out. LIONEL. God speed you there! Never did Britain's fame More brightly shine than when she stood alone, Confiding solely in her own good sword. Let each one fight his battle for himself, For 'tis eternal truth that English blood Cannot, with honor, blend with blood of France. 

  

       SCENE II.     

       The same. QUEEN ISABEL, attended by a PAGE. ISABEL. What must I hear? This fatal strife forbear! What brain-bewildering planet o'er your minds Sheds dire perplexity? When unity Alone can save you, will you part in hate, And, warring 'mong yourselves, prepare your doom?—    I do entreat you, noble duke, recall Your hasty order. You, renowned Talbot, Seek to appease an irritated friend! Come, Lionel, aid me to reconcile These haughty spirits and establish peace. LIONEL. Not I, madame. It is all one to me.    'Tis my belief, when things are misallied, The sooner they part company the better. ISABEL. How? Do the arts of hell, which on the field Wrought such disastrous ruin, even here Bewilder and befool us? Who began This fatal quarrel? Speak! Lord-general! Your own advantage did you so forget, As to offend your worthy friend and ally? What could you do without his powerful arm?    'Twas he who placed your monarch on the throne, He holds him there, and he can hurl him thence; His army strengthens you—still more his name.    Were England all her citizens to pour Upon our coasts, she never o'er this realm Would gain dominion did she stand alone; No! France can only be subdued by France! TALBOT. A faithful friend we honor as we ought; Discretion warns us to beware the false. BURGUNDY. The liar's brazen front beseemeth him Who would absolve himself from gratitude. ISABEL. How, noble duke? Could you so far renounce Your princely honor, and your sense of shame, As clasp the hand of him who slew your sire? Are you so mad to entertain the thought Of cordial reconcilement with the Dauphin, Whom you yourself have hurled to ruin's brink? His overthrow you have well 

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