France. Before Orleans. | |
| |
Flourish. Enter CHARLES, with his Forces: ALENÇON, REIGNIER, and Others. | |
| Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens | |
| So in the earth, to this day is not known. | 4 |
| Late did he shine upon the English side; | |
| Now we are victors; upon us he smiles. | |
| What towns of any moment but we have? | |
| At pleasure here we lie near Orleans; | 8 |
| Otherwhiles the famish’d English, like pale ghosts, | |
| Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. | |
| Alen. They want their porridge and their fat bull-beeves: | |
| Either they must be dieted like mules | 12 |
| And have their provender tied to their mouths, | |
| Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice. | |
| Reig. Let’s raise the siege: why live we idly here? | |
| Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear: | 16 |
| Remaineth none but mad-brain’d Salisbury, | |
| And he may well in fretting spend his gall; | |
| Nor men nor money hath he to make war. | |
| Char. Sound, sound alarum! we will rush on them. | 20 |
| Now for the honour of the forlorn French! | |
| Him I forgive my death that killeth me | |
| When he sees me go back one foot or fly. [Exeunt. | |
| |
Alarums; Excursions; afterwards a retreat. Re-enter CHARLES, ALENÇON, REIGNIER, and Others. | 24 |
| Char. Who ever saw the like? what men have I! | |
| Dogs! cowards! dastards! I would ne’er have fled | |
| But that they left me ’midst my enemies. | |
| Reig. Salisbury is a desperate homicide; | 28 |
| He fighteth as one weary of his life: | |
| The other lords, like lions wanting food, | |
| Do rush upon us as their hungry prey. | |
| Alen. Froissart, a countryman of ours, records, | 32 |
| England all Olivers and Rowlands bred | |
| During the time Edward the Third did reign. | |
| More truly now may this be verified; | |
| For none but Samsons and Goliases, | 36 |
| It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten! | |
| Lean raw-bon’d rascals! who would e’er suppose | |
| They had such courage and audacity? | |
| Char. Let’s leave this town; for they are hare-brain’d slaves, | 40 |
| And hunger will enforce them to be more eager: | |
| Of old I know them; rather with their teeth | |
| The walls they’ll tear down than forsake the siege. | |
| Reig. I think, by some odd gimmals or device, | 44 |
| Their arms are set like clocks, still to strike on; | |
| Else ne’er could they hold out so as they do. | |
| By my consent, we’ll e’en let them alone. | |
| Alen. Be it so. | 48 |
| |
Enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS. | |
| Bast. Where’s the prince Dauphin? I have news for him. | |
| Char. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us. | |
| Bast. Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall’d: | 52 |
| Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? | |
| Be not dismay’d, for succour is at hand: | |
| A holy maid hither with me I bring, | |
| Which by a vision sent to her from heaven | 56 |
| Ordained is to raise this tedious siege, | |
| And drive the English forth the bounds of France. | |
| The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, | |
| Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome; | 60 |
| What’s past and what’s to come she can descry. | |
| Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words, | |
| For they are certain and unfallible. | |
| Char. Go, call her in. [Exit BASTARD.] But first, to try her skill, | 64 |
| Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place: | |
| Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern: | |
| By this means shall we sound what skill she hath. [Retires. | |
| |
Re-enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, with JOAN LA PUCELLE and Others. | 68 |
| Reig. Fair maid, is’t thou wilt do these wondrous feats? | |
| Joan. Reignier, is’t thou that thinkest to beguile me? | |
| Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from behind; | |
| I know thee well, though never seen before. | 72 |
| Be not amaz’d, there’s nothing hid from me: | |
| In private will I talk with thee apart. | |
| Stand back, you lords, and give us leave a while. | |
| Reig. She takes upon her bravely at first dash. | 76 |
| Joan. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd’s daughter, | |
| My wit untrain’d in any kind of art. | |
| Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas’d | |
| To shine on my contemptible estate: | 80 |
| Lo! whilst I waited on my tender lambs, | |
| And to sun’s parching heat display’d my cheeks, | |
| God’s mother deigned to appear to me, | |
| And in a vision full of majesty | 84 |
| Will’d me to leave my base vocation | |
| And free my country from calamity: | |
| Her aid she promis’d and assur’d success; | |
| In complete glory she reveal’d herself; | 88 |
| And, whereas I was black and swart before, | |
| With those clear rays which she infus’d on me, | |
| That beauty am I bless’d with which you see. | |
| Ask me what question thou canst possible | 92 |
| And I will answer unpremeditated: | |
| My courage try by combat, if thou dar’st, | |
| And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. | |
| Resolve on this, thou shalt be fortunate | 96 |
| If thou receive me for thy war-like mate. | |
| Char. Thou hast astonish’d me with thy high terms. | |
| Only this proof I’ll of thy valour make, | |
| In single combat thou shalt buckle with me, | 100 |
| And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true; | |
| Otherwise I renounce all confidence. | |
| Joan. I am prepar’d: here is my keen-edg’d sword, | |
| Deck’d with five flower-de-luces on each side; | 104 |
| The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine’s churchyard, | |
| Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth. | |
| Char. Then come, o’ God’s name; I fear no woman. | |
| Joan. And, while I live, I’ll ne’er fly from a man. | 108 |
| [They fight, and JOAN LA PUCELLE overcomes. | |
| Char. Stay, stay thy hands! thou art an Amazon, | |
| And fightest with the sword of Deborah. | |
| Joan. Christ’s mother helps me, else I were too weak. | 112 |
| Char. Whoe’er helps thee, ’tis thou that must help me: | |
| Impatiently I burn with thy desire; | |
| My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu’d. | |
| Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, | 116 |
| Let me thy servant and not sovereign be; | |
| ’Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus. | |
| Joan. I must not yield to any rites of love, | |
| For my profession’s sacred from above: | 120 |
| When I have chased all thy foes from hence, | |
| Then will I think upon a recompense. | |
| Char. Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall. | |
| Reig. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. | 124 |
| Alen. Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock; | |
| Else ne’er could he so long protract his speech. | |
| Reig. Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean? | |
| Alen. He may mean more than we poor men do know: | 128 |
| These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues. | |
| Reig. My lord, where are you? what devise you on? | |
| Shall we give over Orleans, or no? | |
| Joan. Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants! | 132 |
| Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard. | |
| Char. What she says, I’ll confirm: we’ll fight it out. | |
| Joan. Assign’d am I to be the English scourge. | |
| This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise: | 136 |
| Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon days, | |
| Since I have entered into these wars. | |
| Glory is like a circle in the water, | |
| Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, | 140 |
| Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought. | |
| With Henry’s death the English circle ends; | |
| Dispersed are the glories it included. | |
| Now am I like that proud insulting ship | 144 |
| Which Cæsar and his fortune bare at once. | |
| Char. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove? | |
| Thou with an eagle art inspired then. | |
| Helen, the mother of great Constantine, | 148 |
| Nor yet Saint Philip’s daughters were like thee. | |
| Bright star of Venus, fall’n down on the earth, | |
| How may I reverently worship thee enough? | |
| Alen. Leave off delays and let us raise the siege. | 152 |
| Reig. Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours; | |
| Drive them from Orleans and be immortalis’d. | |
| Char. Presently we’ll try. Come, let’s away about it: | |
| No prophet will I trust if she prove false. [Exeunt. | 156 |