As deputy under that gracious king,

Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.

Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks, 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.

[Aside.

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. Suf. 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.

Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestly 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 send the king.

Suf. 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

Suf. O, wert thou for myself!-But, Suffolk, stay;

Thou may'st not wander in that labyrinth;
There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk.
Solicit Henry with her wond'rous 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 wonder. [Exit.

SCENE IV.-Camp of the Duke of York, in Anjou. Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others.

York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd to burn. Enter LA PUCELLE, 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. Fye, 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 me 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, but 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:

Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,
That so her torture may be shortened.

Puc. 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 heaven forefend! the holy maid with child?
War. The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought:
Is all your strict preciseness 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; Especially, since Charles must father it.

Puc. You are deceiv'd; my child is none of his; It was Alençon, that enjoy'd my love.

York. Alençon! that notorious Machiavel!

It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.

Puc. 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, she knows not There were so many, whom she may accuse.

War. It's sign, she hath been liberal and free. York. And, yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat, and thee: Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.

Puc. Then lead me hence;-with whom I leave my curse: May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abodę! But darkness and the gloomy shade of death

Environ you; ill mischief, and despair,

Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves!
[Exit, guarded
York. Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashes,
Thou foul accursed minister of hell!

Enter Cardinal BEAUFORT, attended.

Car. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence
With letters of commission from the king.
For know, my lords, the states of Christendom,
Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils,
Have earnestly implor'd a general peace
Betwixt our nation and th' aspiring French;
And here at hand the Dauphin, and his train,
Approacheth, to confer about some matter.

York. Is all our travail turn'd to this effect?
After the slaughter of so many peers,
So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers,
That in this quarrel have been overthrown,
And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,
Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?
Have we not lost most part of all the towns,
By treason, falsehood, and by treachery,
Our great progenitors had conquered

O, Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief
The utter loss of all the realm of France.

War. Be patient, York: if we conclude a peace,
It shall be with such strict and severe covenants,
As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.

Enter CHARLES, attended; ALENÇON, Bastard, REIGNIER, and others.

Char Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed,