The Plains near Roan. |
|
Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, ALENÇON, JOAN LA PUCELLE, and Forces. |
Joan. Dismay not, princes, at this accident, |
Nor grieve that Roan is so recovered: |
Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, |
For things that are not to be remedied. |
Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while, |
And like a peacock sweep along his tail; |
We'll pull his plumes and take away his train, |
If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd. |
Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto, |
And of thy cunning had no diffidence: |
One sudden foil shall never breed distrust. |
Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies, |
And we will make thee famous through the world. |
Alen. We'll set thy statue in some holy place |
And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint: |
Employ thee, then, sweet virgin, for our good. |
Joan. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: |
By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words, |
We will entice the Duke of Burgundy |
To leave the Talbot and to follow us. |
Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, |
France were no place for Henry's warriors; |
Nor should that nation boast it so with us, |
But be extirped from our provinces. |
Alen. For ever should they be expuls'd from France, |
And not have title of an earldom here. |
Joan. Your honours shall perceive how I will work |
To bring this matter to the wished end. [Drums heard afar off. |
Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive |
Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. |
|
Here sound an English march. Enter, and pass over, TALBOT and his Forces. |
There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, |
And all the troops of English after him. |
|
A French march. Enter the DUKE OF BURGUNDY and his Forces. |
Now in the rearward comes the duke and his: |
Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. |
Summon a parley; we will talk with him. [A parley. |
Char. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy! |
Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? |
Joan. The princely Charles of France, thy countryman. |
Bur. What sayst thou, Charles? for I am marching hence. |
Char. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words. |
Joan. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! |
Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee. |
Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious. |
Joan. 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 lowly babe |
When death doth close his tender dying eyes, |
See, see the pining malady of France; |
Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, |
Which thou thyself hast giv'n her woeful breast. |
O! 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 foreign gore: |
Return thee therefore, with a flood of tears, |
And wash away thy country's stained spots. |
Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words, |
Or nature makes me suddenly relent. |
Joan. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, |
Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. |
Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation |
That will not trust thee but for profit's sake? |
When Talbot hath set footing once in France, |
And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill, |
Who then but English Henry will be lord, |
And thou be thrust out like a fugitive? |
Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof, |
Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe, |
And was he not in England prisoner? |
But when they heard he was thine enemy, |
They set him free, without his ransom paid, |
In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. |
See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen! |
And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen. |
Come, come, return; return thou wand'ring lord; |
Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms. |
Bur. I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers |
Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot, |
And made me almost yield upon my knees. |
Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen! |
And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace: |
My forces and my power of men are yours. |
So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee. |
Joan. Done like a Frenchman: turn, and turn again! |
Char. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes us fresh. |
Bast. And doth beget new courage in our breasts. |
Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, |
And doth deserve a coronet of gold. |
Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers: |
And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt. |
Design © 1995-2007 ZeFLIP.com All rights reserved.