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CHARLES.

Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is;

But we will presently provide for them.

BURGUNDY.

I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there:

Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.

PUCELLE.

Of all base passions, fear is most accursed.

Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine,

Let Henry fret and all the world repine.

CHARLES.

Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate!

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. Before Angiers.

[Alarum. Excursions. Enter La Pucelle.]

PUCELLE.

The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen 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 and 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 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? 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 body, 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.]

[Excursions. Re-enter La Pucelle fighting hand to hand with York: 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!

See, how the ugly witch doth bend her brows,

As if with Circe she would change my shape!

PUCELLE.

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.

PUCELLE.

A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee!

And may ye both be suddenly surprised

By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!

YORK.

Fell banning hag; enchantress, hold thy tongue!

PUCELLE.

I prithee, give me leave to curse awhile.

YORK.

Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake.

[Exeunt.]

[Alarum. Enter Suffolk, with Margaret in his hand.]

SUFFOLK.

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;

I kiss these fingers for eternal peace,

And lay them gently on thy tender side.

Who art thou? say, that I may honor thee.

MARGARET.

Margaret my name, and daughter to a king,

The King of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.

SUFFOLK.

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 prisoner underneath her wings.

Yet, if this servile usage once offend,

Go and be free again as Suffolk's friend.

[She is going.]

O, stay! I have no power to let her pass;

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 Pole! disable not thyself;

Hast not a tongue? is she not here?

Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?

Aye, beauty's princely majesty is such,

Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.

MARGARET.

Say, Earl of Suffolk,—if thy name be