« AnteriorContinuar »
Pucel. Nor grieve that Roan is so recovered.
S CEN NE VII.
ISMA Y not, Princes, at this accident,
- Dau. We have been guided by thee hitherto, ?
And of thy cunning had no diffidence. 2 One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.
Baft. Search out thy wit for secret policies, 1 And we will make thee famous through the world.
Alan. We'll set thy ftatue in fome holy place,
Pucel. Then thus it must be, this doth Joan devise :
Dau. Ay, marry, fwceting, if we could do That,
Alan. For ever should they be expuls'd from France,
Pucel. Your honours shall perceive how I will work, To bring this matter to the wished end,
[Druni beats afar off. Hark, by the sound of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.
[Here beat an English march, There goes the Talbot with his colours spread, And all the troops of English after him.(Fren. March.
Now, in the rereward, comes the Duke and his :
[Trumpets found a parley.
Enter the Duke of Burgundy marching. Dau. A Parley with the Duke of Burgundy:
Burg. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy ?
(man, Pucel. The princely Charles of France, thy country, Burg. What sayft thou, Charles ? for I am marche ing hence
(words. Dau. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy
Pucel. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France ! Stay, let thy humble hand-maid speak to thee.
Burg. Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
Pucel. Look on thy country, look on fertile France; And see the cities, and the towns defac'd By wasting ruin of the cruel foe. As looks the mother * on her lovely babe, When death doth close his tender dying eyes ; See, see the pining malady of France, Behold the wounds, the most unnat'ral wounds, Which thou thyself haft giv'n her woful breast. Oh, turn thy edged sword another way; Strike those that hurt; and hurt not those that help: One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom, Should grieve thee more than streams of common
gore ; Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears, And wash away thy country's stained spots.
*-on her lowly babe,] It is plain Shakespear wrote, lovely babe, it answering to fertile France above, which this domestic Image is brought to illustrate,
Burg. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words,
Pucel. Besides, all French and France exclaim on thee;
Burg. I'm vanquished. These haughty words of hers
Bast. And doth beget new courage in our breasts.
Alan. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, And doth deserve a Coronet of gold.
Dau. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers; And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt.
Tal. M ,
S CE N E IX.
Changes to PARIS. Enter King Henry, Gloucester, Winchester, York,
Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Exeter, &c. To them Talbot, with his Soldiers.
Y gracious Prince, and honourable Peers,
Hearing of your arrival in this realm,
K. Henry. Is this the fam'd lord Talbot, uncle Glofler, That hath so long been resident in France ?
Glou. Yes, if it please your Majesty, my Liege.
toil in war; Yet never have
Manent Vernon and Basset.
Disgracing of these colours that I wear
Bas. Yes, Sir, as well as you dare patronage
Ver. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is.
(Strikes him. Bal. Villain, thou know'st, the law of arms is such, d
That, whoso draws a sword in th' presence 't's death;
Ver. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you;
A CT IV.
and Governor of Paris.