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Reig. And I again in Henry's Royal name,
Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,
Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace. The Chriftian Prince King Henry, were he here. Mar. Farewel, my Lord. Good wishes, praise and pray'rs
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.
[She is going. Suf. Farewel, fweet Madam; hark you, Margaret; No princely commendations to my King?
Mar. Such commendations as become a maid, A virgin, and his fervant, fay to him.
Suf. Words fweetly plac'd, and modeftly directed. But, Madam, I muft trouble you again, No loving token to his Majefty?
Mar. Yes, my good Lord, a pure unfpotted heart, Never yet taint with love, I fend the King.
← To send fuch peevish tokens-] Peevish, for childish. Pp 2
Suf. And this withal.
[Kiffes her. Mar. That for thyfelf.-I will not fo prefume 4 To fend fuch peevish tokens to a King.
Suf. O, wert thou for myself!-but, Suffolk, stay; Thou may't not wander in that labyrinth; There Minotaurs, and ugly treafons, lurk. Sollicit Henry with her wond'rous praife, Bethink thee on her virtues that furmount, Her natʼral graces that extinguish art; Repeat their femblance often on the feas;
That, when thou com'ft to kneel at Henry's feet, Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with wonder. [Exeunt.
Enter York, Warwick, a Shepherd, and Pucelle.
Have I fought ev'ry country far and near,
Shep. Out, out! - my Lords, an please you, 'tis
I did beget her, all the parish knows,
Her mother, living yet, can teftify,
War. Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage ?1 York. This argues, what her kind of life hath been. Wicked and vile; and fo her death concludes.
Shep. Fy, Joan, that thou wilt be fo obftacle":
Pucel. Peafant, avaunt! You have fuborn'd this
Of purpose to obfcure my noble birth.
Why wilt thou be fo obftacle?] A vulgar corruption of obftinate, which I think has odly lafted fince our author's time till now. my noble birth. 'Tis true, I gave a noble-&c.]
This paffage feems to corroborate an explanation, fomewhat far fetched, which I have given in Henry IV. of the nobleman and Royal man.
Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest,
Thy mother gave thee when thou fuck'dft her breast,
Or elfe, when thou didft keep my lambs a-field,
Doft thou deny thy father, curfed drab?
Pucel. First, let me tell you, whom you have con-
Not me begotten of a fhepherd fwain,
York. Ay, ay; away with her to execution.
Pucel. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?
York. Now heav'n forefend! the holy maid with
War. The greatest miracle that ere you wrought.: Is all your ftrict precifenefs come to this?
York. She and the Dauphin have been juggling; I did imagine, what would be her refuge.
War. Well, go to ; we will have no baftards live; Efpecially, fince Charles muft father it.
Pucel. You are deceiv'd, my child is none of his; It was Alanson that enjoy'd my love.
York. Alanfon! that notorious Machiavel! It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.
Pucel. O, give me leave; I have deluded you; 'Twas neither Charles, nor yet the Duke I nam'd, But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevail'd.
War. A married man! that's moft intolerable. York. Why, here's a girl.-I think, fhe knows not well.
There were fo many, whom fhe may accufe.
War. It's a fign, fhe hath been liberal and free. York. And yet, forfooth, she is a virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee; Ufe no intreaty, for it is in vain.
Pucel. Then lead me hence; with whom I leave my curse.
May never glorious fun reflect his beams
7 Alanfon? that notorious Machiavel.] Machiavel being mentioned fomewhat before his
time, this line is by fome of the
Inviron you, 'till mischief and despair s
Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves!
York. Break thou in pieces, and confume to ashes,
Enter Cardinal of Winchester.
Car. Lord Regent, I do greet your Excellence
York. Is all our travel turn'd to this effect?