Dismay not, princes, at this accident,

3.3.21587Nor grieve that Rouen is so recoverèd.

3.3.31588Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,

3.3.41589For things that are not to be remedied.

3.3.51590Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while,

3.3.61591And like a peacock sweep along his tail;

3.3.71592We'll pull his plumes and take away his train,

3.3.81593If Dauphin and the rest will be but ruled.

We have been guided by thee hitherto,

3.3.101595And of thy cunning had no diffidence.

3.3.111596One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.

[To Joan.] Search out thy wit for secret policies,

3.3.131598And we will make thee famous through the world.

[To Joan.] We'll set thy statue in some holy place

3.3.151600And have thee reverenced like a blessèd saint.

3.3.161601Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.

Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise:

3.3.181603By fair persuasions mixed with sugared words

3.3.191604We will entice the Duke of Burgundy

3.3.201605To leave the Talbot and to follow us.

Aye, marry, sweeting, if we could do that

3.3.221607France were no place for Henry's warriors,

3.3.231608Nor should that nation boast it so with us,

3.3.241609But be extirpèd from our provinces.

For ever should they be expulsed from France

3.3.261611And not have title of an earldom here.

Your honors shall perceive how I will work

3.3.281613To bring this matter to the wishèd end.

3.3.291615Hark, by the sound of drum you may perceive

3.3.301616Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.

3.3.311618There goes the Talbot, with his colors spread,

3.3.321619And all the troops of English after him.

3.3.331621Now in the rearward comes the Duke and his;

3.3.341622Fortune in favor makes him lag behind.

3.3.351623Summon a parley. We will talk with him.

[Calling.] A parley with the Duke of Burgundy.

Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?

The princely Charles of France, thy 1628countryman.

What sayest thou, Charles? For I am marching 1630hence.

Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy 1632words.

Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France,

3.3.421634Stay. Let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.

Speak on, but be not over-tedious.

Look on thy country, look on fertile France,

3.3.451637And see the cities and the towns defaced

3.3.461638By wasting ruin of the cruel foe.

3.3.471639As looks the mother on her lowly babe

3.3.481640When death doth close his tender-dying eyes,

3.3.491641See, see the pining malady of France;

3.3.501642Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,

3.3.511643Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast.

3.3.521644Oh turn thy edgèd sword another way,

3.3.531645Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help.

3.3.541646One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom

3.3.551647Should grieve thee more then streams of foreign gore.

3.3.561648Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears

3.3.571649And wash away thy country's stainèd spots.

[Aside.] Either she hath bewitched me with her words,

3.3.591651Or nature makes me suddenly relent.

Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee,

3.3.611653Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.

3.3.621654Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation

3.3.631655That will not trust thee but for profit's sake?

3.3.641656When Talbot hath set footing once in France

3.3.651657And fashioned thee that instrument of ill,

3.3.661658Who then but English Henry will be lord,

3.3.671659And thou be thrust out like a fugitive?

3.3.681660Call we to mind and mark but this for proof:

3.3.691661Was not the Duke of Orléans thy foe?

3.3.701662And was he not in England prisoner?

3.3.711663But when they heard he was thine enemy

3.3.721664They set him free, without his ransom paid,

3.3.731665In spite of Burgundy and all his friends.

3.3.741666See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen

3.3.751667And, join'st with them, will be thy slaughtermen.

3.3.761668Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord,

3.3.771669Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.

[Aside.] I am vanquishèd. 1671These haughty words of hers

3.3.791672Have battered me like roaring cannon-shot

3.3.801673And made me almost yield upon my knees.

3.3.811674Forgive me country, and sweet countrymen;

3.3.821675And lords, accept this hearty kind embrace.

3.3.831676My forces and my power of men are yours.

3.3.841677So farewell, Talbot. I'll no longer trust thee.

[Aside.] Done like a Frenchman: turn and turn 1679again.

Welcome, brave Duke. Thy friendship makes 1681us fresh.

And doth beget new courage in our 1683breasts.

Pucelle hath bravely played her part in this,

3.3.891685And doth deserve a coronet of gold.

Now let us on, my lords, 1687and join our powers,

3.3.911688And seek how we may prejudice the foe.