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  • Title: Henry VI, Part 1 (Modern)
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    Author: William Shakespeare
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    Henry VI, Part 1 (Modern)

    1585 Enter Charles [the Dauphin, the] Bastard [of Orléans, the Duke of] Alencon, [Joan la] Pucelle [and French Soldiers].
    Dismay not, princes, at this accident,
    Nor grieve that Rouen is so recoverèd.
    Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,
    For things that are not to be remedied.
    1590Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while,
    And like a peacock sweep along his tail;
    We'll pull his plumes and take away his train,
    If Dauphin and the rest will be but ruled.
    We have been guided by thee hitherto,
    1595And of thy cunning had no diffidence.
    One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.
    [To Joan.] Search out thy wit for secret policies,
    And we will make thee famous through the world.
    [To Joan.] We'll set thy statue in some holy place
    1600And have thee reverenced like a blessèd saint.
    Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.
    Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise:
    By fair persuasions mixed with sugared words
    We will entice the Duke of Burgundy
    1605To leave the Talbot and to follow us.
    Aye, marry, sweeting, if we could do that
    France were no place for Henry's warriors,
    Nor should that nation boast it so with us,
    But be extirpèd from our provinces.
    For ever should they be expulsed from France
    And not have title of an earldom here.
    Your honors shall perceive how I will work
    To bring this matter to the wishèd end.
    Drum sounds afar off.
    1615Hark, by the sound of drum you may perceive
    Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.
    Here sound an English march.
    There goes the Talbot, with his colors spread,
    And all the troops of English after him.
    1620 [Here sounds a] French march.
    Now in the rearward comes the Duke and his;
    Fortune in favor makes him lag behind.
    Summon a parley. We will talk with him.
    Trumpets sound a parley.
    [Calling.] A parley with the Duke of Burgundy.
    [Enter the Duke of Burgundy.]
    Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?
    The princely Charles of France, thy countryman.
    What sayest thou, Charles? For I am marching 1630hence.
    Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.
    Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France,
    Stay. Let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
    Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
    Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
    And see the cities and the towns defaced
    By wasting ruin of the cruel foe.
    As looks the mother on her lowly babe
    1640When death doth close his tender-dying eyes,
    See, see the pining malady of France;
    Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,
    Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast.
    Oh turn thy edgèd sword another way,
    1645Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help.
    One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom
    Should grieve thee more then streams of foreign gore.
    Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears
    And wash away thy country's stainèd spots.
    [Aside.] Either she hath bewitched me with her words,
    Or nature makes me suddenly relent.
    Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee,
    Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.
    Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation
    1655That will not trust thee but for profit's sake?
    When Talbot hath set footing once in France
    And fashioned thee that instrument of ill,
    Who then but English Henry will be lord,
    And thou be thrust out like a fugitive?
    1660Call we to mind and mark but this for proof:
    Was not the Duke of Orléans thy foe?
    And was he not in England prisoner?
    But when they heard he was thine enemy
    They set him free, without his ransom paid,
    1665In spite of Burgundy and all his friends.
    See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen
    And, join'st with them, will be thy slaughtermen.
    Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord,
    Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.
    [Aside.] I am vanquishèd. These haughty words of hers
    Have battered me like roaring cannon-shot
    And made me almost yield upon my knees.
    Forgive me country, and sweet countrymen;
    1675And lords, accept this hearty kind embrace.
    My forces and my power of men are yours.
    So farewell, Talbot. I'll no longer trust thee.
    [Aside.] Done like a Frenchman: turn and turn again.
    Welcome, brave Duke. Thy friendship makes us fresh.
    And doth beget new courage in our breasts.
    Pucelle hath bravely played her part in this,
    1685And doth deserve a coronet of gold.
    Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers,
    And seek how we may prejudice the foe.