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,
And now it is my chance to find thee out,
Muft I behold thy timeless, cruel, death!

[right.

Ah, Joan, fweet daughter, I will die with thee.
Pucel. Decripit mifer! base ignoble wretch !

I am defcended of a gentler blood.

Thou art no father, nor no friend of mine. }
Shep. Out, out

not fo; i

VOL V.

my lords, an please you, 'tis

I did beget her, all the parish knows:
Her mother, living yet, can teftify,

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,
Had been a little ratfbane for thy fake:

Or elfe, when thou did't keep my lambs a-field,
I with fome rav'nous wolf had eaten thee.
Doft thou deny thy father, curfed drab?
O, burn her, burn her; hanging is too good.

[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,
But iffu'd from the progeny of Kings;
Virtuous and holy, chofen from above,
By inspiration of celeftial grace,
To work exceeding miracles on earth:
I never had to do with wicked Spirits.
But you, that are polluted with your lufts,
Stain'd with the guiltlefs blood of innocents,
Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,

Because

Because you want the grade, that others have,
You judge it ftraight a thing impoffible
To compass wonders, but by help of devils.
No, mifconceived Joan of Arc hath been.
A virgin from her tender infancy,
Chafte and immaculate in very thought;
Whose maiden blood, thus rig'roufly effus'd,
Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heav'n.
York. Ay, ay; away with her to execution.
War. And heark ye, Sirs; because she is a maid,
Spare for no faggots, let there be enow:
Place pitchy barrels on the fatal stake,
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 ye hale me to a violent death.

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
may accufe.

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
With letters of Commiffion from the King.
For know, my lords, the ftates of Chriftendom,
Mov'd with remorfe of thefe outrageous broils,
Have earnestly implor'd a gen'ral Peace
*Betwixt our nation and th' refpiring French 5
And fee at hand the Dauphin, and his train,
Approaching to confer about fome matters.

York. Is all our travel turn'd to this effect?
After the flaughter of fo many Peers,
So many Captains, gentlemen and foldiers,
That in this quartel have been overthrown,
And fold their bodies for their country's benefit,
Shall we at laft conclude effeminate Peace?
Have we not loft moft part of all the towns,
By treason, falfhood, and by treachery,
Our great progenitors had conquered ?··

* 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.
The utter lofs of all the realm of France.

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.
The hollow paffage of my prifon'd voice,
By fight of these our baleful Enemies.

Win. Charles and the reft, it is enacted thus::
That in regard King Henry gives confent,
Of mere compassion and of lenity,
To ease your country of distressful war,
And suffer you to breathe in fruitful Peace;
You fhall become true liegemen to his Crown.
And Charles, upon condition thou wilt fwear
To pay him tribute and fubmit thyself,
Thou shalt be plac'd as Viceroy under him;
And ftill enjoy thy regal dignity.

Alan. Muft he be then a fhadow of himself?
Adorn his temples with a Coronet,
And yet in fubftance and authority
Retain but privilege of a private man?
This proffer is abfurd and reafonless.

Char. 'Tis known, already that I am poffeft
Of more than half the Gallian Territories,
And therein rev'renc'd for their lawful King.
Shall I, for lucre of the reft un-vanquish'd,
Detract fo much from that prerogative,
As to be call'd but Viceroy of the whole?
No, lord Ambaffador, I'll rather keep
That which I have, than, coveting for more,
Be caft from poffibility of all.
S 3

York.