Act V. Scene
III.
Scene III.—France. Before Angiers.
Alarum: Excursions. Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE.
Joan. The regent conquers and the French-
men 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.
Alarum. Enter French and English fighting:
JOAN LA PUCELLE and YORK fight hand to
hand: JOAN 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.
Joan. 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.
Joan. A plaguing mischief light on Charles
and thee!
And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd
By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!
York. Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy
tongue!
Joan. I prithee, give me leave to curse a while.
York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to
the stake. [Exeunt.
Alarum. Enter SUFFOLK, with MARGARET
in his hand.
Suf. 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.
What art thou? say, that I may honour thee.
Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a
king,
The King of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.
Suf. 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 prisoners underneath her wings.
Yet if this servile usage once offend,
Go and be free again, as Suffolk's friend.
[She turns away as 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 thy pri-
soner?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
Ay; beauty's princely majesty is such
Confounds the tongue and makes the senses
rough.
Mar. Say, Earl of Suffolk,—if thy name be
so,—
What ransom must I pay before I pass?
For I perceive, I am thy prisoner.
Suf. [Aside.] How canst thou tell she will
deny thy suit,
Before thou make a trial of her love?
Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom
must I pay?
Suf. [Aside.] She's beautiful and therefore
to be woo'd,
She is a woman, therefore to be won.
Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea or no?
Suf. [Aside.] Fond man! remember that
thou hast a wife;
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?
Mar. I were best to leave him, for he will
not hear.
Suf. [Aside.] There all is marr'd; there lies
a cooling card.
Mar. He talks at random; sure, the man is
mad.
Suf. [Aside.] And yet a dispensation may be
had.
Mar. And yet I would that you would answer
me.
Suf. [Aside.] I'll win this Lady Margaret.
For whom?
Why, for my king: tush! that's a wooden thing.
Mar. [Overhearing him.] He talks of wood:
it is some carpenter.
Suf. [Aside.] Yet so my fancy may be satisfied,
And peace established between these realms.
But there remains a scruple in that too;
For though her father be the King of Naples,
Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor,
And our nobility will scorn the match.
Mar. Hear ye, captain? Are you not at leisure?
Suf. [Aside.] It shall be so, disdain they ne'er
so much:
Henry is youthful and will quickly yield.
Madam, I have a secret to reveal, too
Mar. [Aside.] What though I be enthrall'd?
he seems a knight,
And will not any way dishonour me.
Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.
Mar. [Aside.] Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by
the French;
And then I need not crave his courtesy.
Suf. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a
cause—
Mar. Tush, women have been captivate ere now.
Suf. Lady, wherefore talk you so?
Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo.
Suf. Say, gentle princess, would you not sup-
pose
Your bondage happy to be made a queen?
Mar. To be a queen in bondage is more vile
Than is a slave in base servility;
For princes should be free.
Suf. And so shall you,
If happy England's royal king be free.
Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto
me?
Suf. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen,
To put a golden sceptre in thy hand
And set a precious crown upon thy head,
If thou wilt condescend to be my—
Mar. What?
Suf. His love.
Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.
Suf. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am
To woo so fair a dame to be his wife
And have no portion in the choice myself.
How say you, madam, are you so.content?
Mar. An if my father please, I am content.
Suf. Then call our captains and our colours
forth!
And, madam, at your father's castle walls
We'll crave a parley, to confer with him.
[Troops come forward.
A Parley sounded. Enter REIGNIER on
the Walls.
Suf. See, Reignier, see thy daughter prisoner!
Reig. To whom?
Suf. To me.
Reig. Suffolk, what remedy?
I am a soldier, and unapt to weep,
Or to exclaim on Fortune's fickleness.
Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord:
Consent, and for thy honour, give consent,
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king,
Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto;
And this her easy-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 feign.
Reig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend
To give thee answer of thy just demand.
[Exit from the walls.
Suf. And here I will expect thy coming.
Trumpets sound. Enter REIGNIER, below.
Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our terri-
tories:
Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.
Suf. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a
child,
Fit to be made companion with a king.
What answer makes your Grace unto my suit?
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 county Maine and Anjou,
Free from oppression or the stroke of war,
My daughter shall be Henry's if he please.
Suf. That is her ransom; I deliver her;
And those two counties I will undertake
Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy.
Reig. And I again, in Henry's royal name,
As deputy unto 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 traffic of a king:
[Aside.] And yet, methinks, I could be well con-
tent
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.
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 mayst not wander in that labyrinth;
There Minotaurs and deadly 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 com'st to kneel at Henry's feet,
Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder.
[Exit.
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