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The plains near Rouen.
[Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, ALENCON, JOAN LA PUCELLE, and forces
]
JOAN LA PUCELLE
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Dismay | not (prin/ces) at | this ac|cident,
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Nor grieve | that Rouen | is so | recov|ered:
T . T T , , ,
Care is no cure,| but rath/er cor|rosive,
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For things | that are | not to | be rem|edied.
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Let fran|tic Tal|bot tri|umph for | a while,
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T T T ,
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And like | a peacock sweep | along | his tail,
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We'll pull | his plumes,| and take | away | his
train,
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If Dauph|in and | the rest | will be | but ruled.
CHARLES
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We have | been guid|ed by | thee hith|erto,
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And of | thy cun|ning had | no dif|fidence,
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One sud|den foil | shall nev|er breed | distrust.
BASTARD OF ORLEANS
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Search^out | thy wit | for sec|ret pol|icies,
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And we | will make | thee fam|ous through | the
world.
ALENCON
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We'll set | thy stat|ue in | some ho|ly place,
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And have | thee reve|renced like | a bless|ed
saint.
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Employ | thee then,| sweet vir/gin, for | our
good.
JOAN LA PUCELLE
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Then thus | it must | be, this | doth Joan |
devise:
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By fair | persua|sions, mixed | with sug|ared
words,
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We will | entice | the Duke | of Burg|undy
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To leave | the Tal|bot, and | to fol|low us.
CHARLES
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Aye mar|ry sweet|ing, if | we could | do that,
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France were | no place | for Hen|ry's war|riors,
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Nor should | that na|tion boast | it so | with us,
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But be | extirp|ed from | our prov|inces.
ALENCON
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For ev|er should | they be | expulsed | from
France,
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And not | have tit|le of | an earl|dom here.
JOAN LA PUCELLE
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Your hon|ors shall | perceive | how I | will work
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To bring | this mat|ter to | the wish|ed end.
[Drum sounds afar off]
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Hark, by | the sound | of drum | you may |
perceive
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Their powers | are march|ing un|to Par|is-ward.
[Here sound an English march. Enter, and pass over at a distance, TALBOT and
his forces]
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There goes | the Tal|bot, with | his col|ors
spread,
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And all | the troops | of Eng|lish aft|er him.
[French march. Enter BURGUNDY and forces]
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Now in | the rear|ward comes | the duke | and
his:
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Fortune | in fav|or makes | him lag | behind.
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Summon | a par|ley, we | will talk | with him.
[Trumpets sound a parley]
CHARLES
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A par|ley with | the Duke | of Burg|undy.
BURGUNDY
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Who craves | a par|ley with | the Burg|undy?
JOAN LA PUCELLE
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The prince|ly Charles | of France,| thy
count|ryman.
BURGUNDY
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What sayst | thou Charles?| For I | am march|ing
hence.
CHARLES
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Speak Pu|celle, and | enchant | him with | thy words.
JOAN LA PUCELLE
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Brave Burg/undy,| undoubt|ed hope | of France,
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Stay, let | thy hum|ble hand|maid speak / to
thee.
BURGUNDY
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Speak^on,| but be | not ov|er-ted|ious.
JOAN LA PUCELLE
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Look^on | thy count|ry, look | on fert|ile
France,
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And see | the cit|ies and | the towns | defaced,
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By was|ting ru|in of | the cru|el foe.
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As looks | the moth|er on | her low|ly babe,
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When death | doth close | his tend|er dy|ing
eyes,
T T . T , ,
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See, see the pin|ing mal|ady | of France:
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Behold | the wounds,| the most | unnat|ural wounds,
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Which thou | thyself | hast given | her woe|ful
breast.
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Oh turn | thy edg|ed sword | anoth|er way,
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Strike those*| that hurt,| and hurt | not^those |
that help: ??
T T . T ,
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One drop of blood | drawn from | thy count|ry's
bosom,
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Should grieve | thee more | than streams | of
for|eign gore:
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Return | thee there|fore with | a flood | of
tears,
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And wash | away | thy count|ry's stain|ed spots.
BURGUNDY
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Either | she hath | bewitched | me with | her
words,
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Or na|ture makes | me sud|denly | relent.
JOAN LA PUCELLE
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Besides,| all French | and France | exclaims | on thee,
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Doubting | thy birth | and law|ful pro|geny.
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Who jointst | thou with | but with a | lordly |
nation,
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That will | not trust | thee, but | for
prof|it's^sake?
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When Tal|bot hath / set foot|ing once | in France,
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And fash|ioned thee | that inst|rument | of ill,
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Who then | but Eng|lish Hen|ry, will | be lord,
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And thou | be thrust | out, like | a fug|itive?
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Call we | to mind,| and mark | but this | for
proof:
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Was not | the Duke | of Orl|eans | thy foe?
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And was | he not | in Eng|land pris|oner?
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But when | they heard | he was | thine^en|emy,
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They set | him free,| without | his rans|om paid,
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In spite | of Burg|undy | and all | his friends.
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See* then,| thou fightst | against | thy
count|rymen,
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And jointst | with them | will be | thy
slaught|ermen.
T T . T ,
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Come, come, return;| return,| thou wand|ering
lord,
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Charles and | the rest | will take | thee in |
their arms.
BURGUNDY
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I am | vanquished:
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These haugh|ty words | of
hers
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Have bat|tered me | like roar|ing can|non-shot,
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And made | me al|most^yield | upon | my knees.
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Forgive | me count|ry, and / sweet count|rymen:
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And lords | accept | this hear|ty kind | embrace.
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My for|ces and | my power | of men | are yours.
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So fare/well Tal|bot, I'll | no long|er trust ||
thee.
JOAN LA PUCELLE
, 2
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Done | like a French|man: turn | and turn |
again.
CHARLES
Tx T T
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Welcome brave duke,| thy friend|ship makes | us
fresh.
BASTARD OF ORLEANS
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And doth | beget | new cour/age in | our breasts.
ALENCON
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Pucelle | hath brave|ly played | her part | in
this,
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And doth | deserve | a cor|onet | of gold.
CHARLES
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Now let | us on,| my lords,
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And join | our powers,
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And seek | how we | may pre|judice | the foe.
[Exeunt]