Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin, and Rambures
Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes. O merchante fortune! Do not run away.
A short alarum
Shame and eternal shame, nothing but shame! Let us die in honour: once more back again; And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand, Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog, His fairest daughter is contaminated.
We are enow yet living in the field To smother up the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought upon.
The devil take order now! I'll to the throng: Let life be short; else shame will be too long.