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Réig. And I again in Henry's Royal name,
As Deputy unto chat gracious King,
Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith.
Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,
Because this is in traffick of a King.
And yet, methinks, I could be well content
To be mine own Attorney in this case. [ Aside.
I'll over then to England with this News,
And make this marriage to be folemniz'd.
So farewell, Reignier ; set this diamond safe
In golden Palaces, as it becomes.
Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace
The Christian Prince King Henry, were he here.
Mar. Farewel, my Lord. Good wishes, praise and
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [She is going
Suf. Farewel, sweet Madam ; hark you, Margaret ;
No princely commendations to my King ?
Mar. Such commendations as become a maid,
A virgin, and his servant, say to him.
Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestly directed.
But, Madam, I must trouble you again,
No loving token to his Majesty ?
Mar. Yes, my good Lord, a pure unspotted heart,
Never yet taint with love, I send the King.
Suf. And this withal.
Mar. That for thyself. I will not so presurne
4 To send such peevish tokens to a King.
Suf. O, wert thou for myself!
-but, Suffolk, stay ;
Thou may'st not wander in that labyrinth ;
There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk.
Sollicit Henry with her wond'rous praise,
Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,
Her nat’ral graces that extinguish art;
Repeat their semblance often on the seas;
4 To send such peevith tokens) Peevish, for childim.
That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet, Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with wonder.
Enter York, Warwick, a Shepherd, and Pucelle.
York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd to burn.
Shep. Ah, Joan! This kills thy father's heart out-
Have I sought ev'ry country far and near,
And now it is my chance to find thee out,
Must I behold thy timeless, cruel, death?
Ah, Joan, sweet daughter, I will die with thee.
Pucel. Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!
I am descended of a gentler blood.
Thou art no father, nor no friend of mine.
Shep. Out, out ! - my Lords, an please you, 'is
I did beget her, all the parish knows,
Her mother, living yet, can testify,
She was the first-fruit of my batch’lorship.
War. Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage ?!
Yirk. This argues, what her kind of life hath been. Wicked and vile ; and so her death concludes.
Shep. Fy, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacles : God knows, thou art a collop of my flesh, And for thy fake have I shed many a tear. Deny me not, I pray thee, gentle Joan. Pucel. Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd this
man Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.
5 Why wilt thou be so obftacle?] This passage seems to corroboA vulgar corruption of obstinałe, rate an explanation, fomewhat which I think' has odly lasted far fetched, which I have given sincé our author's time till now. in Henry IV of the nobleman and my noble birth.
Royal man. 'Tis true, I gave a noble-&c.] 4
Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest,
The morn that I was wedded to her mother.
Kneel down and take my blesing, good my girl.
Wilt thou not stoop ? now cursed be the time
Of thy nativity! I would, the milk,
Thy mother gave thee when thou fuck’dst her breast,
Had been a little ratsbane for thy fake;
Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field,
I wish some ráv'nous wolf had eaten thee.
Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab?
O, burn her, burn her; hanging is too good. [Exit
York. Take her away, for she hath liv'd too long,
To fill the world with vicious qualities.
Pucel. First, let me tell you, whom you have con-
Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,
But illu'd from the progeny of Kings ;
Virtuous and holy, chosen from above,
By inspiration of celestial grace,
To work exceeding miracles on earth :
I'never had to do with wicked spirits.
But you, that are polluted with your lusts,
Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,
Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,
Because you want the grace, that others have,
You judge it streight a thing impossible
To compass wonders, but by help of devils.
No, misconceived Joan of Ark. hath been
A virgin from her tender infancy,
Chaste and immaculate in very thought;
Whose maiden blood thus rig'rously effus'd,
Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heav'n.
York. Ay, ay; away with her to execution.
War. And hark ye, Sirs; because she is a maid,
Spare for no faggots, let there be enow;
Place pitchy barrels on the fatal ftake,
That so her torture may be shortened.
Pucel. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts ?
Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity;
That warranteth by law to be thy privilege.
I am with child, ye bloody homicides,
Murder not then the fruit within my womb,
Although you hale me to a violent death.
York. Now heav'n forefend! the holy maid with
War. The greatest miracle that ere you wrought.
Is all your strict preciseness 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 bastards live; Especially, fince Charles must father it.
Pucel. You are deceiv'd, my child is none of his; It was Alanson that enjoy'd my love.
York. ’ Alanson ! 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 most intolerable.
York. Why, here's a girl.-I think, she knows not
There were so many, whom she may accuse.
War. It's a sign, she hath been liberal and free.
York. And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.
Scrumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee;
Use no intreaty, for it is in vain.
Pucel. Then lead me hence; with whom I leave my
May never glorious fun reflect his beams
Upon the country where you make aboad!
But darkness and the gloomy shade of death
Inviron you, 'till mischief and despair :
Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves !
York. Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashes,
Thou foul accursed minister of hell !
Enter Cardinal of Winchester.
Car. Lord Regent, I do greet your Excellence
With letters of Commission from the King.
For know, my Lords, the states of Christendom,
Mov'd with remorse of these outragious broils,
Have earnestly implor'd a gen'ral Peace
Betwixt our nation and th' aspiring French";
And see at hand the Dauphin, and his train,
Approaching to confer about some matters.
York. Is all our travel turn’d to this effect ?
After the Naughter of so many Peers,
So many Captains, gentlemen and soldiers,
That in this quarrel have been overthrown,
And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,
Shall we at last conclude effeminate Peace?
Have we not lost most part of all the towns,
By treason, falfhood, and by treachery,
Our great progenitors had conquered ?
Oh, Warwick, Warwick ! I foresee with grief
'till mischief and despair was aspiring. Shakespeare with-
Drive you to break your necks,-) out doubt wrote,
Perhaps Shakespeare intended to th'RESPIRING French.
remark in this execration, the i.e. who had but just got into
frequency of suicide among the breath again, after having been
English, which has been common- almost hunted down by the Eng-
ly imputed to the gloominess of lish.
The ambassador yet uses no 9 Betwixt our nation and th' argument ; but if he did, respir.
ASPIRING French ;] But ing would not much help the would an Ambassador, who came cause. Shakespeare wrote wbat to persuade peace with France, might be pronounced, and thereuse it as an argument, that France fore did not write th’respiring.