Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Charles. Faintly besiege vs one houre in a moneth.
Alan. Alan.
Alan. They want their Porredge, & their fat Bul Beeues:
Alan. Eyther they must be dyeted like Mules,
Alan. And haue their Prouender ty'd to their mouthes,
Alan. Or pitteous they will looke, like drowned Mice.
Reigneir. Reigneir.
Reigneir. Let's rayse the Siege: why liue we idly here?
Reigneir. Talbot is taken, whom we wont to feare:
Reigneir. Remayneth none but mad‑brayn'd Salisbury,
Reigneir. And he may well in fretting spend his gall,
Reigneir. Nor men nor Money hath he to make Warre.
Charles. Charles.
Charles. Sound, sound Alarum, we will rush on them.
Charles. Now for the honour of the forlorne French:
Charles. Him I forgiue my death, that killeth me,
Charles. When he sees me goe back one foot, or flye.
Charles. Exeunt.
Charles. Here Alarum, they are beaten back by the
Charles. English, with great losse.