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, or No loving token to his Majefty?. Mar. Yes, my good lord, a pure unfpotted heart, Never yet taint with love, I fend the King, Suf. And this withal. [Kiffes her. Mar. That for thyfelf-I will not fo prefume, To send such peevish tokens to a King. ' Suf. O, wert thou for myself! but, Suffolk, ftay; Thou may'ft not wander in that labyrinth; There Minotaurs, and ugly treafons, lurk. Solicit Henry with her wond'rous praife, Bethink thee on her virtues that furmount, Her nat'ral graces that extinguish art; Repeat their femblance often on the feas; That, when thou com'ft to kneel at Henry's feet, Thou may'ft bereave him of his wits with wonder.) 1 [Exeunt. Enter York, Warwick, a fhepherd, and Pucelle. York. B RING forth that forcerefs, condemn'd to: burn..? 207 [. Shep. Ah, Joan! This kills thy father's heart out Have I fought ev'ry Country far and near, [right. Ah, Joan, fweet daughter, I will die with thee. I am defcended of a gentler blood. Thou art no father, nor no friend of mine. } not fo; i VOL V. my lords, an please you, 'tis I did beget her, all the parish knows: She was the firft-fruit of my bach lorship. War. Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage? York. This argues what her kind of life hath been, Wicked and vile, and fo her death concludes. Shep. Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be fo obftacle: God knows, thou art a collop of my flesh, And for thy fake have I fhed many a tear; Deny me not, I pray thee, gentle Joan. Pucel. Peafant, avaunt! You have fuborn'd this man Of purpose to obfcure my noble Birth. Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest, The morn that I was wedded to her mother. Kneel down and take my bleffing, good my girl. Wilt thou not floop? now curfed be the time Of thy nativity! I would, the milk, Thy mother gave thee when thou fuck'dft her breast, Or elfe, when thou did't keep my lambs a-field, [Exit. York. Take her away, for the hath liv'd too long, To fill the world with vitious qualities. Pucel. Firft, let me tell you, whom you have condemn'd; Not me begotten of a shepherd swain, Because Because you want the grade, that others have, Pucel. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts? York. Now heav'n forefend! the holy maid with child! War. The greatest miracle that ere you wrought: Is all your ftrict precifeness 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; Efpecially, fince Charles muft father it. Pucel. You are deceiv'd, my child is none of his It was Alanfon 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 most intolerable. York. Why, here's a girl; I think, fhe knows not well, (There were fo many) whom fhe War War. It's fign, fhe hath been liberal and free." York. And yet forfooth, fhe is 'a virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee: Ufe no entreaty, for it is in vain. i. [curfe. Pucel. Then lead me hence; with whom I leave my May never glorious fun reflect his beams. Upon the country where you make abode ! But darkness and the gloomy fhade of death' Inviron you, 'till mifchief and defpair. Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves! [Exit guarded. York. Break thou in pieces, and confume to afhes, Thou foul accurfed minifter of hell! Car. Enter Cardinal of Winchester. ORD Regent, I do greet your Excellence York. Is all our travel turn'd to this effect? * Betwixt our nation and th' aspiring French;] But would an Ambas. fador, who came to perfuade Peace with France, use it as an Argument, that France was afpiring. Shakespear without doubt wrote. -th' refpiring French. i. e. who had but juft got into Breath again, after having been almost hunted down by the English. Oh! Oh, Warwick, Warwick! I forefee with grief. War. Be patient, York; if we conclude a Peace, It fhall be with fuch ftrict and severe covenants," As little fhall the Frenchmen gain thereby. Enter Charles, Alanson, Bastard, and Reignier, Char. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed, That peaceful Truce fhall be proclaim'd in France; We come to be informed by yourselves, What the conditions of that league must be. York. Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes. Win. Charles and the reft, it is enacted thus:: Alan. Muft he be then a fhadow of himself? Char. 'Tis known, already that I am poffeft York. |