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To bid his young son welcome to his grave?
Away! vexation almost stops my breath.
That sunder'd friends greet in the hour
death.-

of

Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can,
But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.-
Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won
away,

'Long all of Somerset, and his delay.

[Exit.

Lucy. Thus, while the vulture of sedition
Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,
Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss
The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror,
That ever living man of memory,

Henry the Fifth :-Whiles they each other

cross,

Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss.

[Exit.

SCENE IV. Other Plains of Gascony. Enter Somerset, with his Forces; an Officer of

Talbot's with him.

Som. It is too late; I cannot send them now;
This expedition was by York, and Talbot,
Too rashly plotted; all our general force
Might with a sally of the very town
Be buckled with the over daring Talbot
Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour,
By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure:
York set him on to fight, and die in shame,
That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the

name.

Off Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth for aid.

Enter Sir William Lucy.

Som. How now, Sir William? whither were you sent ?

Lucy. Whither, my lord ? from bought and
sold Lord Talbot;

Who, ring'd about with bold adversity,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset,
To beat assailing death from his weak legions.
And whiles the honourable captain there
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied
limbs,

And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue,
You, his false hopes, the trust of England's ho-

nour,

Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
Let not your private discord keep away
The levied succours that should lend him aid,
Whiles he, renowned noble gentleman,
Yields up his life unto a world of odds:
Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy,
Alençon, Reignier, compass him about,
And Talbot perisheth by your default.

Som. York set him on, York should have sent
him aid.

Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace
claims;

Swearing that you withhold his levied host,
Collected for this expedition.

SCENE V. The English Camp, near Bordeaux.
Enter Talbot and John his Son.

Tal. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee,
To tutor thee in stratagems of war;
That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd,
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs,
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But,-O malignant and ill boding stars!-
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger:
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest
horse;

And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight: come, dally not, begone.
John. Is my name Talbot ? and am I your son?
And shall I fy? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,
To make a bastard, and a slave of me:
That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood.
The world will say-He is not Talbot's blood,

Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.
John. He, that flies so, will ne'er return again.
Tal. If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
John. Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly;
Your loss is great, so your regard should be;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death, the French can little boast;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done :
You fled for vantage every one will swear;
But, if I how, they'll say-it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay,
If, the first hour, I shrink, and run away.
Rather than life preserv'd with infamy.
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one
tomb?

John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's
womb.

Tal. Upon my blessing I command thee go.
John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
John. No part of him, but will be shame in me.
Tal. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee.
Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not
lose it.

John. Yes, your renowned name; Shall flight
abuse it?

Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain.

John. You cannot witness for me, being slain, If death be so apparent, then both fly.

Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight, and

die ?

My age was never tainted with such shame.
John. And shall my youth be guilty of such
blame?

No more can I be sever'd from your side,
ex-Than can yourself yourself in twain divide:
Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;
For live 1 will not, if my father die.

Som. York lies; he might have sent and had the horse;

I owe him little duty, and less love;

And take foul scorn, to fawn on him by sending.
Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force of
France,

Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot:
Never to England shall he bear his life;
But dies, betrayed to fortune by your strife.
Som Come, go; I will despatch the horsemen
straight:

Within six hours they will be at his aid.

Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair
son,

Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.
Come, side by side together live and die;
[Exeunt

SCENE VI. A Field of Battle.
Alarum: Excursions, wherein Talbot's Son is
hemmed about, and Talbot rescues him.
Tal. Saint George and victory! fight, soldiers,
fight:

Lucy. Too late comes rescue; he is ta'en, or And left us to the rage of France's sword.

The regent hath with Talbot broke his word,

slain;

For fly he could not, if he would have fled;
And fly would Talbot never, though he might.
Som. If he be dead, brave Talbot then adieu!
Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame

in you.

[Exeunt.

Where is John Talbot ?-pause, and take thy
breath;

I gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death.
John. O twice my father! twice am I thy son:
The life, thou gav'st me first, was lost and done;
Till with thy warlike sword despite of fate,

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care;

Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?
Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead;
The help of one stands me in little stead.
O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
To-morrow I shall die with mickle age:
By me they nothing gain, an if I stay,
"Tis but the short'ning of my life one day:
In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,
My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's

fame:

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On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
(To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,)
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die:
And like me to the peasant boys of France;
To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance!
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son:
Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate sire
Crete,

of

Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet:
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side;
And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride.
[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

Another Part of the same. Alarum: Excursions. Enter Talbot wounded, supported by a Servant.

Tal. Where is my other life? Mine own is gone;

O, where's young Talbot ?-Where is valiant John 7

Enter Soldiers, bearing the Body of John Talbot. Serv. O my dear lord! lo, where your son is borne f

Tal. Thou antick death, which laugh'st us here to scorn,

Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
In thy despite shall 'scape mortality.-

thou whose wounds become hard-favour'd
death,

Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath; Brave death by speaking, whether he will, or no; Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe.Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should Had death been French, then death had died

say

to-day.

Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms: My spirit can no longer bear these harms. Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have, Now myold arms are young John Talbot's grave. Dies.

Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving the two Bodies. Enter Charles, Alençon, Burgundy, Bastard, La Pucelle, and Forces. Char. Had York and Somerset brought res cue in,

We should have found a bloody day of this. Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's,raging. wood,

Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!
Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said,
Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid:
But with a proud, majestical high scorn,-
He answer'd thus; Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench:
So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
Bur. Doubtless, he would have made a noble
knight:

See, where he lies inhersed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones

asunder;

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But tell me whom thou seek'st?

Lucy. Where is the great Alcides of the field, Valiant Lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury 7 :-Created, for his rare success in arms, Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence;

Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity!
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee
When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
And, like a hungry lion, did commence
Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience;
Tend'ring my ruin, and assail'd of none,
But, when my angry guardant stood alone,
Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart,
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust'ring battle of the French:
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His overmounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of
Alton,

Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of
Sheffield,

The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge;
Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the golden fleece;
Great mareschal to Henry the Sixth,

Of all his wars within the realm of France?

Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed!
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.-
Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles,
Stinking and flyblown, lies here at our feet.
Lucy. Is Talbot slain; the Frenchman's only
Scourge,

Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn'd,
That I, in rage, might shoot them at your
faces!

O, that I could but call these dead to life!
It were enough to fright the realm of France:
Were but his picture left among you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies; that I inay bear them
hence,

And give them burial as beseems their worth.

Puc. I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep them here,

They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
Char. Go, take their bodies hence.
Lucy.

I'll bear them hence:
But from their ashes shall be rear'd
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
Char. So we be rid of them, do with 'em what
thou wilt.

And now to Paris, in this conquering vein:
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.

[Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace. Enter King Henry, Gloster, and Exeter.

K. Hen. Have you perus'd the letters from the pope,

The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac?

Glo. I have, my lord; and their intent is this,They humbly sue unto your excellence, To have a godly peace concluded of, Between the realms of England and of France. K. Hen. How doth your grace affect their motion?

Glo. Well, my good lord; and as the only

means

To stop effusion of our Christian blood,
And 'stablish quietness on every side.
K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always
thought,

It was both impious and unnatural,
That such immanity and bloody strife
Should reign among professors of one faith.
Glo. Beside, my lord,-the sooner to effect,
And surer bind, this knot of amity,-
The earl of Armagnac-near knit to Charles,
A man of great authority in France-
Proffers his only daughter to your grace
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
K. Hen. Marriage, uncle! alas! my years are
young;

And fitter is my study and my books,
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
Yet, call the ambassadors; and, as you please,
So let them have their answers every one:
I shall be well content with any choice,
Tends to God's glory, and my country's weal.
Enter a Legate, and two Ambassadors, with
Winchester, in a Cardinal's Habit.
Ere. What! is my lord of Winchester install'd,
And call'd unto a cardinal's degree!
Then I perceive, that will be verified,
Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy,-
If once he come to be a cardinal,
He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.
K. Hen. My lords ambassadors, your several

suits

Have been consider'd and debated on.

Your purpose is both good and reasonable:
And, therefore, are we certainly resolv'd
To draw conditions of a friendly peace;
Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean
Shall be transported presently to France.
Glo. And for the proffer of my lord your
master,-

I have inform'd his highness so at large,
As-liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
Her beauty, and the value of her dower,-
He doth intend she shall be England's queen.
K. Hen. In argument and proof of which
contract,

Bear her this jewel, [To the Amb.] pledge of my affection.

And so, my lord protector, see them guarded, And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd, Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

[Exeunt King Henry, and Train; Gloster, Exeter, and Ambassadors. Win. Stay, my lord legate; you shall first receive

The sum of money, which I promised
Should be deliver'd to his holiness

For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
Leg. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.
Win. Now, Winchester will not submit, I trow,
Or be inferior to the proudest peer.

Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive,
That, neither in birth or for authority,"
The bishop will be overborne by thee:
I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee,
Or sack this country with a mutiny. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. France. Plains in Anjou.
Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alençon, La Pucelle,
and Forces, marching.

Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping spirits:

Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt,
And turn again unto the warlike French.
Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of
France,

And keep not back your powers in dalliance. Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;

Else, ruin combat with their palaces!
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Success unto our valiant general,
And happiness to his accomplices!
Char. What tidings send our scouts? I pr'y
thee speak.

Mess. The English army, that divided was Into two parts, is now conjoin'd in one; And means to give you battle presently. Char. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warn

ing is:

But we will presently provide for them.

Bur. I trust, the ghost of Talbot is not there; Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. Puc. Of all base passions, fear is most ac curs'd:

Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine;

Let Henry fret, and all the world repine. Char. Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate! [Exeunt,

SCENE III. The same. Before Angiers.
Alarums: Excursions. Enter La Pucelle.
Puc. The regent conquers, and the Frenchmon
fly.-

Now help, ye charming spells and periapts;
And ye choice spirits that admonish me,
And give me signs of future accidents!

[Thunder.

You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Under the lordly monarch of the north, Appear, and aid me in this enterprise !

Enter Fiends.

This speedy quick appearance argues proof
Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd
Out of the powerful regions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the
field, [They walk about, and speak not.
O, hold me not with silence over-long!
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
I'll lop a member off, and give it you,
In earnest of a further benefit;
So you do condescend to help me now.-
[They hang their heads.
No hope to have redress 7-My body shall
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.
[They shake their heads.

Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice,
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?
Then take my soul; my hody, soul, and all,
Before that England give the French the foil.
[They depart.
See! they forsake me. Now the time is come,
That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest,
And let her head fall into England's lap.
My ancient incantations are too weak,
And hell too strong for me to buckle with:
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.

[Exit. Alarums. Enter French and English fighting. La Pucelle and York fight hand to hand. La Pucelle is taken. The French fly.

York. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast:

Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms,
And try if they can gain your liberty.-
A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace!
Bee, how the ugly witch doth bend her brows,
As if, with Circe, she would change my shape.
Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst

not be.

York. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper

man;

No shape but his can please your dainty eye. Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles, and thee!

And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd
By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!
York. Fell, banning hag! enchantress, hold
thy tongue.

Puc. I pr'ythee, give me leave to curse a while.
York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to
the stake.
[Exeunt.
Alarums. Enter Suffolk, leading in Lady
Margaret.
Suff. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.
[Gazes on her.

O fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly;
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands,
And lay them gently on thy tender side.

I kiss these fingers [Kisses her hand.] for eter

nal peace: Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee. Mar. Margaret my name; and daughter to a king,

The king of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.
Suff. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd.
Be not offended, nature's miracle,
Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me:
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings.
Yet, if this servile usage once offend,
Go, and be free again as Suffolk's friend.
[She turns away as going.

O, stay!-I have no power to let her puss;
My hand would free her, but my heart says-no.
As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,
Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak:
I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind:

Fie, De la Poole! disable not thyself;
Hast not a tongue ? is she not here thy prisoner 7
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
Ay; beauty's princely majesty is such,
Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses
rough.

Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk,-if thy name be
So,-

What ransom must I pay before I pass 7
For, I perceive, I am thy prisoner.

Suff. How caust thou tell she will deny thy suit,

Before thou make a trial of her love? [Aside. Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I pay?

Suff. She's beautiful; and therefore to be woo'd:

She is a woman; therefore to be won. [Aside. Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea, or no? Suff. Fond man! remember, that thou hast a wife :

Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?

[Aside. Mar. I were best leave him, for he will not hear.

Suff. There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card.

mad.

Mar. He talks at random; sure, the man is
Suff. And yet a dispensation may be had.
Mar. And yet I would that you would answer

me.

Suff. I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom? Why, for my king: Tush, that's a wooden thing.

Mar. He talks of wood: It is some carpenter. Suff. Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, And peace established between these realms. But there remains a scruple in that too; For though her father be the king of Naples, Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet he is poor, And our nobility will scorn the match. [Aside. Mar. Hear ye, captain? Are you not at leisure?

Suff. It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much: Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.Madam, I have a secret to reveal.

Mar. What though I be enthrall'd? he seems a knight,

And will not any way dishonour me. [Aside Suff. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. Mar. Perhaps, I shall be rescu'd by the French; And then I need not crave his courtesy. [Aside. Suff. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a

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Suff. Then call our captains, and our colours,
forth:

And, madam, at your father's castle walls
We'll crave a parley to confer with him.
[Troops come forward.

A parley sounded. Enter Reignier, on the

Walls.

Suff. See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner.
Reig. To whom'

Suff Reig.

To me.

Thou may'st not wander in that labyrinth;
There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk,
Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise:
Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount;
Mad, natural graces that extinguish art;
Repeat their semblance often on the seas,
That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's
feet,

Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with won-
der.
[Exil.

Suffolk, what remedy 7 SCENE IV. Camp of the Duke of York, in
Anjou.

I am a soldier, and unapt to weep,
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.

Suff. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord:
Consent (and, for thy honour, give consent,)
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king;
Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto;
And this her easy-held imprisonment
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.
Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
Suff
Fair Margaret knows,
That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign.
Reig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend,
To give thee answer of thy just demand.
[Exit, from the Walls.
Suff. And here I will expect thy coming.
Trumpets sounded. Enter Reignier, below.
Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our territo-
ries:

Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.
Suff. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a
child,

Fit to be made companion with a king:

What answer makes your grace unto my suit?
Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her little
worth,

To be the princely bride of such a lord;
Upon condition I may quietly

Enjoy mine own, the county Maine, and Anjou,
Free from oppression, or the stroke of war,
My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.
Suff. That is her ransom, I deliver her;
And those two counties, I will undertake,
Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy."
Reig. And I again, in Henry's royal name,
As deputy unto that gracious king,

Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.
Suff Reignier of France, I give thee kingly
thanks,

[Aside.

Because this is in traffick of a king:
And yet, methinks, I could be well content
To be mine own attorney in this case.
I'll over then to England with this news,
And make this marriage to be solemniz'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. Farewell, my lord! Good wishes, praise,
and prayers,

Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [Going.
Suff. Farewell, sweet madam! But hark you!
Margaret;

No princely commendations to my king?
Mar. Such commendations as become a maid,
A virgin, and his servant, say to him.
Suff. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestly di-

rected.

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.
Suff. And this withal.
[Kisses her.
Mar. That for thyself.-I will not so presume,
To send such peevish tokens to a king.
[Exeunt Reignier and Margaret.
Suff. O, wert thou for myself!-But, Suffolk,
stay;

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Enter La Pacelle, guarded, and a Shepherd.
Shep. Ah, Joan! this kills thy father's heart
outright!

Have I sought every 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 Joan, I'll die with
thee!

Puc. 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, 'tis
not so;

I did beget her, all the parish knows:
Her mother liveth yet, can testify,
She was the first fruit of my bachelorship.
War. Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage?
York. This argues what her kind of life hath
been;

Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.
Shep. Fie, Joan! that thou wilt be so obstacle!
God knows, thou art a collop of my flesh;
And for thy sake have I shed many a tear:
Deny me not, I pr'ythee, gentle Joan.
Puc. Peasant, avaunt-You have suborn'd
this man,

Of purpose to obscure 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 blessing, 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 suck'dst her
breast,

Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake!
Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field,
I wish some ravenous 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.
Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have
condemn'd;

Not one begotten of a shepherd swain,
But issu'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 straight a thing impossible
To compass wonders, bu: by help of devils.
No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been
A virgin from her tender infancy,
Chaste and immaculate in very thought;
Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd,
Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven,
York. Ay, ay-away with her to execution.
War. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid,
Spare for no fagots, let there be enough:

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