SCENE V. Sound. Enter Reignier on the wall

Suf. See, Reignier, fee thy daughter prifoner.
Reig. To whom?

Suf. To me.

Reig. Suffolk, what remedy?

I am a foldier, and unapt to weep,
Or to exclaim on Fortune's fickleness.

Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my Lord.
Confent, and for thy honour give consent,
Thy daughter fhall be wedded to my King:
Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto
And this her eaty-held imprisonment
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty..
Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
Suf. Fair Margaret knows,

That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or fain.
Reig. Upon thy princely warrant I defcend,
To give thee answer of thy juft demand.
Suf. And here I will expect thy coming.

Trumpets found. Enter Reignier.

Reig. Welcome, brave Earl, into our territories;
Command in Anjou what your Honour pleafes,
Suf. Thanks, Reignier, happy in fo sweet a child,
Fit to be made companion of a King.

What answer makes your Grace unto my fuit?
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 country Maine and Anjou,
Free from oppreffion or the stroke of war,
My daughter fhall be Henry's, if he please.
Suf. That is her ranfom, I deliver her;
And thofe two counties I will undertake
Your Grace fhall well and quietly enjoy..
Reig. And I again in Henry's Royal name,
As deputy unto that gracious King,

Give thee her hand for fign of plighted faith.

T

Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks, Because this is in traffic of a King.

And yet methinks I could be well content

To be mine own attorney in this cafe.
I'll over then to England with this news,
And make this marriage to be folemniz'd:
So farewel, Reignier; fet this diamond fafe
In golden palaces, as it becomes.

[Afide.

Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Christian Prince King Henry, were he here. Mar. Farewel, my Lord: good wishes, praise and pray'rs

Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.

[She is going. 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 place'd, and modeftly directed. 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 fend the King.

Suf. And this withal.

thyfelf

[Kiffes hers Mar. That for thy felf-I will not fo prefume, To fend fuch peevish tokens to a King.

*

Suf. O, wert thou for myfelf!-but, Suffolk, stay; Thou may't not wander in that labyrinth; There minotaurs, and ugly treafons, lurk. Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise, 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'st to kneel at Henry's feet, Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with wonder. [Exeunt:

Enter York, Warwick, a Shepherd and Pucelle.

Tork. Bring forth that forcerefs, condemn'd to burn, Shep. Ah, Joan! this kills thy father's heart outright. Have I fought ev'ry country far and near, And now it is my chance to find thee out,

Must I behold thy timeless, cruel, death!

* Peevijo, for childish. VOL. IV.

3 E

Ah,

Ah, Joan, fweet daughter, I will die with thee.
Pucel. Decrepit mifer*! bafe ignoble wretch!"
I am defcended of a gentler blood.

Thou art no father, nor no friend of mine.

Shep. Out, out!my Lords, an' please you, 'tis I did beget her, all the parifh knows:

Her mother, living yet, can teftify,

She was the firft fruit of my bach'lorfhip.

[not fo;

War. Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage? Tork. This argues what her kind of life hath been, Wicked and vile; and so 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 ftoop? 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 didst keep my lambs a-field,
I wifh 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 vicious qualities.

[demn'd:

Pucel. First let me tell you whom you have conNot me begotten of a fhepherd fwain, But iffu'd from the progeny of kings; Virtuous and holy, chofen from above, By infpiration of celeftial grace, To work exceeding miracles on earth. I never had to do with wicked fpirits. But you that are polluted with your lufts, Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, Because you want the grace that others have,

1. c. wretch.

You

You judge it ftraight a thing impoffible
To compafs 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;
Whofe 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 hark ye, Sirs; becaufe fhe is a maid,
Spare for no faggots, let there be enow:
Place pitchy barrels on the fatal stake,
That fo her torture may be shortened.

Pucel. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts? Then, Joan, difcover thine infirmity, That warranteth by law thy privilege. I am with child, ye bloody homicides: Murther not then the fruit within my womb, Although ye hale me to a violent death.

[child!

York. Now heav'n forfend! the holy maid with War. The greatest miracle that ere you wrought;

Is all your Atrict precifenefs 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. 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.

[well

War. A married man! that's most intolerable. York. Why, here's a girl; I think fhe knows not (There were so many) whom the may accufe. War. It's fign the hath been liberal and free. York. And yet, forfooth, fhe is a virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee: Use no intreaty, for it is in vain.

Pucel. Then lead me hence; with whom I leave my May never glorious fun reflect his beams

* York. Alanfon! that notorious Machiavel!

[curfe.

Upon

where you make abode ! Upon the country But darkness and the gloomy fhade of death Inviron you, till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves! [Exit guarded.

York. Break thou in pieces, and confume to ashes, Thou foul accurfed minifter of hell!

SCENE VII. Enter Cardinal of Winchefter.
Car. Lord Regent, I do greet your Excellence
With letters of commiffion from the King.
For know, my Lords, the ftates of Christendom,
Mov'd with remorfe of thefe outrageous broils,
Have earnestly implor'd a gen'ral peace
Betwixt our nation and th' refpiring French;
And see 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 quarrel have been overthrown,
And fold their bodies for their country's benefit,
Shall we at laft conclude effeminate peace?
Have we not loft most part of all the towns,
By treason, falfehood, and by treachery,
Our great progenitors had conquered?
Oh, Warwick, Warkwick! I foresee 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 fevere covenants,
As little thall the Frenchmen gain thereby.

Enter Dauphin, Alanfon, Baftard, and Reignier, Dau. 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 muft be.

York. Speak, Winchefter; 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