I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee,
Or sack this country with a mutiny.

SCENE II.

France. Plains in Anjou.

[Exeunt.

Enter CHARLES, Burgundy, ALENÇON, LA PUCELLE, and Forces, marching.

Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping spirits. 'T is said, the stout Parisians do revolt,

And turn again unto the warlike French.

Alen. Then, march to Paris, royal Charles of France,

And keep not back your powers in dalliance.

Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;

Else ruin combat with their palaces!

Scout.

Enter a Scout.

Success unto our valiant general,

And happiness to his accomplices!

Char. What tidings send our scouts? I pr'ythee, speak.
Scout. The English army, that divided was

Into two parties, is now conjoin'd in one,

And means to give you battle presently.

Char. Somewhat too sudden, Sirs, the warning is;

But we will presently provide for them.

Bur. I trust, the ghost of Talbot is not there:

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

Puc. Of all base passions fear is most accurs'd. Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine; Let Henry fret, and all the world repine.

Char. Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate!

SCENE III.

The Same. Before Angiers.

Alarums: Excursions.

Enter LA PUCELLE.

Puc. The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly.

[Exeunt.

Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts;

And ye, choice spirits, that admonish me,
And give me signs of future accidents:
You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
Under the lordly monarch of the north,
Appear, and aid me in this enterprize!

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.

[Thunder.

[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 farther benefit,

So you do condescend to help me now.

No hope to have redress? - My body shall
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.

[They hang their heads.

[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.
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.

[They depart.

Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.

[Exit.

Alarums. Enter French and English, fighting; LA PUCELLE

and YORK fight hand to hand.

LA PUCELLE is taken. The

French fly.

York. Damsel of France, I think, I have you fast: Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms,

See, how the ugly witch doth bend her brows,
As if, with Circe, she would change my shape.

Puc. 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.

Puc. 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.
Puc. I pr'ythee, give me leave to curse a while.

York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake.

[Exeunt.

Alarums. Enter SUFFOLK, leading in Lady MARgaret.
Suf. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.

O, fairest beauty! do not fear, nor fly,

For I will touch thee but with reverent hands:

[Gazes on her.

I kiss these fingers [Kissing her hand] for eternal peace,
And lay them gently on thy tender side.

Who 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 Poole! disable not thyself;

Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy prisoner?
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. How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit,

Before thou make a trial of her love?

[Aside.

Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I pay?

Suf. She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd;

She is a woman, therefore to be won.

[Aside.

Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea, or no?
Suf. Fond man! remember, that thou hast a wife;

Then, how can Margaret be thy paramour?

[Aside.

Mar. I were best to leave him, for he will not hear.
Suf. There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card.
Mar. He talks at random: sure, the man is mad.
Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had.
Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me.
Suf. I'll win this lady Margaret. For whom?
Why, for my king: tush! that's a wooden thing.
Mar. He talks of wood: it is some carpenter.
Suf. 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. It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much:
Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield. —
Madam, I have a secret to reveal.

[Aside.

Mar. What though I be enthrall'd? he seems a knight, And will not any way dishonour me.

[Aside.

Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.
Mar. Perhaps, I shall be rescu'd by the French,

And then I need not crave his courtesy.

[Aside.

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, 't is but quid for quo.

Suf. Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose

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. 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.

His love.

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.

[Aside.

[Troops come forward.

A Parley sounded. Enter REIGNIER, on the Walls.

Suf. See, Reignier, see thy daughter prisoner.
Reig. To whom?