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SUFFOLK.

That is her ransom; I deliver her;

And those two counties I will undertake

Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy.

REIGNIER.

And I again, in Henry's royal name,

As deputy unto that gracious king,

Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.

SUFFOLK.

Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,

Because this is in traffic of a king.

[Aside] 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 solemnized.

So, farewell, Reignier; set this diamond safe

In golden palaces, as it becomes.

REIGNIER.

I do embrace thee as I would embrace

The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here.

MARGARET.

Farewell, my lord: good wishes, praise and prayers.

Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [Going.

SUFFOLK.

Farewell, sweet madam: but hark you, Margaret;

No princely commendations to my king?

MARGARET.

Such commendations as becomes a maid,

A virgin and his servant, say to him.

SUFFOLK.

Words sweetly placed and modestly directed.

But, madam, I must trouble you again;

No loving token to his majesty?

MARGARET.

Yes, my good lord, a pure unspotted heart,

Never yet taint with love, I send the king.

SUFFOLK.

And this withal. [Kisses her.]

MARGARET.

That for thyself: I will not so presume

To send such peevish tokens to a king.

[Exeunt Reignier and Margaret.]

SUFFOLK.

O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay;

Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth;

There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.

Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise:

Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,

And natural graces that extinguish art;

Repeat their semblance often on the seas,

That, when thou comest to kneel at Henry's feet,

Thou mayst 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.]

SHEPHERD.

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!

PUCELLE.

Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!

I am descended of a gentler blood:

Thou art no father nor no friend of mine.

SHEPHERD.

Out, out! My lords, as 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.

WARWICK.

Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage?

YORK.

This argues what her kind of life hath been,

Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.

SHEPHERD.

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 prithee, gentle Joan.

PUCELLE.

Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd this man,

Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.

SHEPHERD.

'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 lived too long,

To fill the world with vicious qualities.

PUCELLE.

First, let me tell you whom you have condemn'd:

Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,

But issued 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,