Thrall

Reigneir. My Lord me thinkes is very long in talke

Alans. Doubtlesse he shriues this woman to her smock,
Else ne're could he so long protract his speech

Reigneir. Shall wee disturbe him, since hee keepes no
meane?
Alan. He may meane more then we poor men do know,
These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues

Reigneir. My Lord, where are you? what deuise you on?
Shall we giue o're Orleance, or no?
Puzel. Why no, I say: distrustfull Recreants,
Fight till the last gaspe: Ile be your guard

Dolph. What shee sayes, Ile confirme: wee'le fight
it out

Puzel. Assign'd am I to be the English Scourge.
This night the Siege assuredly Ile rayse:
Expect Saint Martins Summer, Halcyons dayes,
Since I haue entred into these Warres.
Glory is like a Circle in the Water,
Which neuer ceaseth to enlarge it selfe,
Till by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.
With Henries death, the English Circle ends,
Dispersed are the glories it included:
Now am I like that prowd insulting Ship,