SCENE 4.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,an 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 bach'lorship.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 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.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,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!WARWICK.And hark ye,sirs;because she is a maid,Spare for no fagots,let there be enow.Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,That so her torture may be shortened.PUCELLE.Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?Then,Joan,discover thine infirmity That warranteth by law to be thy privilege:I am with child,ye bloody homicides;Murder not then the fruit within my womb,Although ye hale me to a violent death.YORK.Now heaven forfend!The holy maid with child!WARWICK.The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought:Is all your strict preciseness come to this?YORK.She and the Dauphin have been juggling.I did imagine what would be her refuge.WARWICK.Well,go to;we'll have no bastards live;Especially since Charles must father it.PUCELLE.You are deceiv'd;my child is none of his:It was Alencon that enjoy'd my love.YORK.Alencon,that notorious Machiavel!It dies,an if it had a thousand lives.PUCELLE.O,give me leave,I have deluded you.'Twas neither Charles nor yet the Duke I nam'd,But Reignier,King of Naples,that prevail'd.WARWICK.A married man!That's most intolerable.YORK.Why,here's a girl!I think she knows not well There were so many-whom she may accuse.WARWICK.It's sign she hath been liberal and free.YORK.And yet,forsooth,she is a virgin pure.Strumpet,thy words condemn thy brat and thee.Use no entreaty,for it is in vain.PUCELLE.Then lead me hence-with whom I leave my curse:May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode;But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you,till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves!Exit,guarded YORK.Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes,Thou foul accursed minister of hell!
Enter CARDINAL BEAUFORT,attended
CARDINAL.Lord Regent,I do greet your Excellence With letters of commission from the King.For know,my lords,the states of Christendom,Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils,Have earnestly implor'd a general peace Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French;And here at hand the Dauphin and his train Approacheth,to confer about some matter.YORK.Is all our travail turn'd to this effect?After the slaughter of so many peers,So many captains,gentlemen,and soldiers,That in this quarrel have been overthrown And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?Have we not lost most part of all the towns,By treason,falsehood,and by treachery,Our great progenitors had conquered?O Warwick,Warwick!I foresee with grief The utter loss of all the realm of France.WARWICK.Be patient,York.If we conclude a peace,It shall be with such strict and severe covenants As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.