Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid;
And I am louted by a traitor villain,
And cannot help the noble chevalier :
God comfort him in this necessity!
If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.
Enter Sir William Lucy.

Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English strength,
Never so needful on the earth of France,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot;
Who now is girdled with a waist of iron,
And hemm' about with grim destruction:
To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, York!
Else, farewell Talbot, France and England's honour.
York. O God! that Somerset-who in proud heart
Doth stop my cornets-were in Talbot's place!
So should we save a valiant gentleman,
By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.
Mad ire, and wrathful fury, makes me weep,
That thus we die, white remiss traitors sleep.

Lucy. O, send some succour to the distress'd lord!

York. He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word: We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get; All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset.

Lucy. Then, God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul! And on his son, young John; whom, two hours since,

I met in travel toward his warlike father!
This seven years did not Talbot see his son;
And now they meet where both their lives are done.
York. Alas! what joy shall noble Talbot have,
To bid his young son welcome to his grave?
Away! vexation almost stops my breath,
That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death.-
Lucy, farewell, no more my fortune can,
But curse the cause, I cannot aid the man.-
Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away,
'Long all of Somerset and his delay.

Lucy. Thus, while the vulture of sedition
Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,
Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss
The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror,
That ever-living man of memory,

[Exit.

Henry the fifth-Whiles they each other cross, Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. [Exit.

SCENE IV. Other Plains of Gascony. Enter Somerset, with his Forces; an Officer of Talbot's with him.

Som. It is too late; I cannot send them now:
This expedition was by York, and Talbot,
Too rashly plotted; all our general force
Might with a sally of the very town

Be buckled with the over-daring Talbot
Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour,
By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure:
York set him on to fight, and die in shame,
That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.
Off. Here is sir William Lucy, who with me
Set from our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid.

Enter Sir William Lucy.

Som. How now, sir William? whither were you sent? [lord Talbot;

Lucy. Whither, my lord? from bought and sold Who, ring'd about with bold adversity, Cries out for noble York and Somerset, To beat assailing death from his weak legions. And whiles the honourable captain there Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs, And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue, You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour, Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. Let not your private discord keep away The levied succours that should lend him aid, While he, renowned noble gentleman, Yields up his life unto a world of odds: Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy, Alencon, Reignier, compass him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default. Som. York set him on, York should have sent him Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace exclaims; Swearing, that you withhold his levied host, Collected for this expedition. [horse: Som. York lies; he might have sent, and had the I owe him little duty, and less love; And take foul scorn, to fawn on him by sending. Lucy.The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot: Never to England shall he bear his life; But dies, betray'd to fortune by your strife. Som. Come, go; I will despatch the horsemen Within six hours they will be at his aid. [straight;

[aid.

Lucy. Too late comes rescue; he is ta'en, or slain : For fly he could not, if he would have fled; And fly would Talbot never, though he might. Som. If he be dead, brave Talbot then adieu ! Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you. [Exeunt, SCENE V. The English Camp, near Bourdeaux. Enter Talbot, and John his Son.

Tal. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee, To tutor thee in stratagems of war;

That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd,
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs,
But,-0 malignant and ill-boding stars!--
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger:
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse;
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight: come, dally not, be gone.
John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your son ?
And shall I fly O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,

To make a bastard, and a slave of me:
The world will say-He is not Talbot's blood,
That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood.

Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.
John. He, that flies so, will ne'er return again.
Tal. If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
John. Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly :
Your loss is great, so your regard should be;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have woa;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done :
You fled for vantage, every one will swear;
But, if I bow, they'll say it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay,
If, the first hour, I shrink, and run away.
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
Rather than life preserv'd with infamy.

Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?
John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.
Tal. Upon my blessing I command thee go.
John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
Tal. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee.
John. No part of him, but will be shame in me.
Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.
John. Yes, your renowned name: Shall flight
[stain.

abuse it ?

Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that John. You cannot witness for me, being slain. If death be so apparent, then both fly.

Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight and die? My age was never tainted with such shame. John. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame? No more can I be sever'd from your side, Than can yourself yourself in twain divide: Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I, For live I will not, if my father die.

Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son, Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. Come, side by side together live and die: And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. A Field of Battle. Alarum. Excursions, wherein Talbot's Son is hemmed about, and Talbot rescues him. Tal.Saint George and victory! light, soldiers, fight: The regent hath with Talbot broke his word, And left us to the rage of France his sword. Where is John Talbot 7-pause, and take thy breath; I gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death. John. O twice my father! twice am I thy son; The life, thou gav'st me first, was lost and done; Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate, To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date.

Tal. When from the dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire,

It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
Quicken'd with youthful spleen, and warlike rage,
Beat down Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Galiia rescu'd thee.
The ireful bastard Orleans-that drew blood
From thee, my boy; and had the maidenhood
Of thy first fight-I soon encountered;
Aud, interchanging blows, I quickly shed
Some of his bastard blood; and, in disgrace,

Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base,
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,
Mean and right poor; for that pure blood of mine,
Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy:-
Here, purposing the bastard to destroy,

Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care;
Art not thou weary, John ? How dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?
Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead
The help of one stands me in little stead.
O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
To-morrow I shall die with mickle age:
By me they nothing gain, an if I stay,
'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day:
In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,
My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame:
All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay;
All these are sav'd, if thou wilt fly away.

John. The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart,

These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart:
On that advantage, bought with such a shame
(To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame),
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,

The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die!
And like me to the peasant boys of France;
To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance!
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son:

Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete,
Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet:
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side;
Aud, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII. Another Part of the same.

Alarum: Excursions. Enter Talbot wounded, sup

ported by a Servant.

Tal. Where is my other life?-mine own is gone:O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John? Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity! Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee: When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee, His bloody sword he brandish'd over me, And, like a hungry lion, did commence Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience; But when my angry guardant stood alone, Tend'ring my ruin, and assail'd of none, Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart, Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clust'ring battle of the French: And in that sea of blood my boy did drench His overmounting spirit; and there died My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Enter Soldiers, bearing the Body of John Talbot.
Serv. O, my dear lord ! lo, where your son is borne!
Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here to
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
In thy despite, shall 'scape mortality.-

[scorn,

O thou, whose wounds become hard-favour'd death,
Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath:
Brave death by speaking, whether he will, or no;
Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe.
Poor boy! he smiles, methinks; as who should say
Had death been French, then death had died to-day.
Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms;
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.
[ Dies.
Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving the
two Bodies. Enter Charles, Alencon, Burgundy,
Bastard, La Pucelle, and Forces.

Char. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.
Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-
wood,

Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!
Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said,
Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid:
But-with a proud, majestical, high scorn,
He answer'd thus; Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench:

word;

scourge,

Puc. Here is a silly stately style, indeed! The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath, Writes not so tedious a style as this.Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles, Stinking, and fly-blown, lies here at our feet. Lucy. Is Talbot slain; the Frenchmen's only Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis? O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd, That I, in rage, might shoot them at your faces! O, that I could but call these dead to life! It were enough to fright the realm of France: Were but his picture left among you here, It would amaze the proudest of you all. Give me their bodies; that I may bear them hence, And give them burial as beseems their worth.

Pue. I think, this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep them here, They would but stink, and putrefy the air. Char. Go, take their bodies hence. Lucy.

I'll bear them hence: But from their ashes shall be rear'd A phoenix that shall make all France afeard. Char. So we be rid of them, do with them, what thon All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. [Exeunt. And now to Paris, in this conquering vein; [wilt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace,
Enter King Henry, Gloster, and Exeter.
K. Hen. Have you perus'd the letters from the pope,
The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac ?

They humbly sue unto your excellence,
Glo. I have, my lord; and their intent is this,-
To have a godly peace concluded of,

Between the realms of England and of France.

K. Hen. How doth your grace affect their motion? Glo. Well, my good lord; and as the only means stop effusion of our Christian blood, And 'stablish quietness on every side.

Το

It was both impious and unnatural,
K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought,
That such immanity and bloody strife
Should reign among professors of one faith.

Glo. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect,
And surer bind, this knot of amity,-
The earl of Armagnac-near knit to Charles,
A man of great authority in France,-
Proffers his only daughter to your grace
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
K. Hen. Marriage, uncle! alas! my years are young;
And fitter is my study and my books,
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.

If once he come to be a cardinal,

He'll make his cap coequal with the crown.

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-sacritice, 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.

Have been consider'd and debated on.

Your purpose is both good and reasonable :

And, therefore, are we certainly resolv'd
To draw conditions of a friendly peace;
Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean
Shall be transported presently to France.

Glo. And for the proffer of my lord your master,-
I have inform'd his highness so at large,
As-liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
Her beauty, and the value of her dower,-
He doth intend she shall be England's queen.
K. Hen. In argument and proof of which contract,
Bear her this jewel, [To the Amb.] pledge of my af-

fection.

And so, my lord protector, see them guarded,
And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd,
Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

[Exeunt King Henry and Train; Gloster,
Exeter, and Ambassadors.

Win. Stay, my lord legate; you shall first receive The sum of money, which I promis'd Should be deliver'd to his holiness

For clothing me in these grave ornaments.

Leg. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure. Win. Now, Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferior to the proudest peer. Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive, That, neither in birth, or for authority, The bishop will be overborne by thee: I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee, Or sack this country with a mutiny.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. France. Plains in Anjou. Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alencon, La Pucelle, and Forces, marching.

Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our droop"Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt, [ing spirits: 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!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Success unto our valiant general, And happiness to his accomplices! [speak. Char. What tidings send our scouts? I pr'ythee, Mess. The English army, that divided was Into two parts, 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 repice. Char. Then on, my lords; and France be forta

nate!

[Exeunt.

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.
Alarums. Enter French and English, fighting. La
Pucelle and York fight Hand to Hand. La Pu-
celle is taken. The French fly.

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

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 And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds! York. Fell, banning hag! enchantress, hold thy tangue.

[thee!

Puc. I pr'ythee, give me leave to curse awhile. York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake. [Exeunt. Alarums. Enter Suffolk, leading in Lady Margaret. Suff. 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, And lay them gently on thy tender side. [peace: Who art thou! say, that I may honour thee. I kiss these fingers [Kissing her Hand] for eternal

Mar. Margaret my name; and daughter to a king, The king of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.

Suff. 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. I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind: Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak: 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. What ransom must I pay before I pass? Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk,-if thy name be so,For, I perceive, I am thy prisoner.

Suff. 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?

Suff. 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? Suff. Fond man! remember, that thou hast a wife; Then how can Margaret be thy paramour! [A side. Mar. I were best leave him, for he will not hear. Suff. There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card. Mar. He talks at random; sure the man is mad. Suff. And yet a dispensation may be had. Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me. Suff. 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.. Suff. 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.

[Aside.
Mar. Hear ye, captain? Are you not at leisure ?
Suff. It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much :
Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.-
Madam, I have a secret to reveal.

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

Suff. 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. Suff. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause-Mar. Tush women have been captivate ere now. [Aside.

Suff. Lady, wherefore talk you so?
Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo.
Suff. 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.

And so shall you,

Suff
If happy England's royal king be free.

Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?
Suff. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen;
To put a golden sceptre in thy haud,
And set a precious crown upon thy head,
If thou wilt condescend to be my-
Mar.

Suff. His love.

What?

Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. Suff. 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, madain; are you so content? Mar. An if my father please, I am content. Suff. 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.
Suff. See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner.
Reig. To whom?
Suff.
Reig.

To me.

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. Suff. Farewell, sweet madam! But hark you, MarNo princely commendations to my king! [garet; Mar. Such commendations as become a maid, A virgin, and his servant, say to him.

Suff. 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.. Suff. 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. Suff. 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; Mad, 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.

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.
Shep. Ah, Joan! this kills thy father's heart out-
Have I sought every country far and near,
And, now it is my chance to find thee ont,
Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?
Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee!
Puc. Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!

I am descended of a gentler blood;
Thou art no father, nor no friend, of mine.

[right!

[so;

I am a soldier; and unapt to weep,
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.

Suff. 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 imprisonmeut
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.
Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks!
Suff
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.
Suff. And here I will expect thy coming.
Trumpets sounded. Enter Reignier, below.
Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our territories;
Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.
Suff. Thanks, Reiguier, 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.
Suff. 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,

[Aside.

Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.
Suff. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,
Because this is in traffic of a king:
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 solemniz'd;
So, farewell, Reignier! Set this diamond safe
In golden palaces, as it becomes.

Shep. 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 pr'ythee, gentle Joan.

Puc. Peasant, avannt!-You have suborn'd this Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.

[man,

Shep. '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 afield,
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 liv'd too long,
To fill the world with vicious qualities.

Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have con-
Not me begotten of a shepherd swain, [demn'd:
But issu'd 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,
Because you want the grace that others have,
You judge it straight a thing impossible
To compass wonders, but by help of devils,
No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been
A virgin from her tender infancy,
Chaste and immaculate in very thought;
Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd,
Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.
York. Ay, ay;-away with her to execution.
War. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid,
Spare for no faggots, let there be enough:
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,

That so her torture may be shortened.