I’ll have a bout with thee;
Devil or devil’s dam, I’ll conjure thee:
Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch,
And straightway give thy soul to him thou servest.
Come, come, ‘tis only I that must disgrace thee.
Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?
My breast I’ll burst with straining of my courage
And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder.
But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.
Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come:
I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
O’ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.
Go, go, cheer up they hungry-starved men;
Help Salisbury to make his testament:
This day is ours, as many more shall be.