Naught hast thou now in presents to bestow,
Thou hast not wherewithal to live to-morrow!
The spring-tide of thy fortune is run out,
And lowest ebb is in thy treasury!
The soldiers, disappointed of their pay,
With sullen murmurs, threaten to retire.
My counsel faileth, not with royal splendor
But meagerly, to furnish out thy household.

CHARLES.
My royal customs pledge, and borrow gold
From the Lombardians.

DUCHATEL.
Sire, thy revenues,
Thy royal customs are for three years pledged.

DUNOIS.
And pledge meanwhile and kingdom both are lost.

CHARLES.
Still many rich and beauteous lands are ours.

DUNOIS.
So long as God and Talbot's sword permit!
When Orleans falleth into English hands
Then with King Rene thou may'st tend thy sheep!

CHARLES.
Still at this king thou lov'st to point thy jest;