« ForrigeFortsæt »
Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,
Northumberland. Come, come, go in with me : 'tis with
As with the tide swell’d up unto its height,
FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.
ACT I. SCENE II.
welcome to us. Bastard. Methinks, your looks are sad, your cheer
Charles. Go, call her in : But, first to try her skill Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place :
Question her proudly, let thy looks be stern :-
Enter LA PUCELLE and others.
Reignier. Fair maid, is 't thou wilt do these wond'rous
feats ? Pucelle. 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. 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. Reignier. She takes upon her bravely at first dash.
elle. 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 : 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, Will’d me to leave my base vocation, And free my country from calamity : Her aid she promis'd, and assurd success : In complete glory she reveal'd herself ; 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, 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,
Pucelle. Assign'd am I to be the English scourge.
Charles. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove ?
Alençon. Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.
honours ; Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd.
Charles. Presently we'll try :—Come, let's away about it: No prophet will I trust, if she prove false.
Pucelle. Advance our waving colours on the walls; Rescu'd is Orleans from the English wolves :Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.
Charles. Divinest creature, bright Astrea's daughter,
How shall I honour thee for this success ?
Alençon. All France will be replete with mirth and joy, When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.
Charles. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won ; For which, I will divide my crown with her : And all the priests and friars in my realm Shall, in procession, sing her endless praise. A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear, Than Rhodope's, of Memphis, ever was : In memory of her, when she is dead, Her ashes, in an urn more precious Than the rich-jewel'd coffer of Darius, Transported shall be at high festivals Before the kings and queens of France. No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry, But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. Come in; and let us banquet royally, After this golden day of victory.