Henry VI Part I: Act 5 Page 2

Henry VI Part I: Act 5
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SCENE III. Before Angiers Alarum. Excursions. Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE JOAN LA PUCELLE The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly. Now help, ye charming spells and periapts; And ye choice spirits that admonish me And give me signs of future accidents. Thunder You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Under the lordly monarch of the north, Appear and aid me in this enterprise. Enter Fiends This speedy and quick appearance argues proof Of your accustom'd diligence to me. Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd Out of the powerful regions under earth, Help me this once, that France may get the field. They walk, and speak not O, hold me not with silence over-long! Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, I'll lop a member off and give it you In earnest of further benefit, So you do condescend to help me now. They hang their heads No hope to have redress? My body shall Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit. They shake their heads Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? Then take my soul, my body, soul and all, Before that England give the French the foil. They depart See, they forsake me! Now the time is come That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest And let her head fall into England's lap. My ancient incantations are too weak, And hell too strong for me to buckle with: Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. Exit Excursions. Re-enter JOAN LA PUCELLE fighting hand to hand with YORK. JOAN LA PUCELLE is taken. The French fly. YORK Damsel of France, I think I have you fast: Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms And try if they can gain your liberty. A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace! See, how the ugly wench doth bend her brows, As if with Circe she would change my shape! JOAN LA PUCELLE Changed to a worser shape thou canst not be. YORK O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man; No shape but his can please your dainty eye. JOAN LA PUCELLE A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee! And may ye both be suddenly surprised By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds! YORK Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy tongue! JOAN LA PUCELLE I prithee, give me leave to curse awhile. YORK Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake. Exeunt Alarum. Enter SUFFOLK with MARGARET in his hand SUFFOLK Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. Gazes on her O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly! For I will touch thee but with reverent hands; I kiss these fingers for eternal peace, And lay them gently on thy tender side. Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee. MARGARET Margaret my name, and daughter to a king, The King of Naples, whosoe'er thou art. SUFFOLK An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd. Be not offended, nature's miracle, Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me: So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings. Yet, if this servile usage once offend. Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend. She is going O, stay! I have no power to let her pass; My hand would free her, but my heart says no As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, Twinkling another counterfeited beam, So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak: I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind. Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself; Hast not a tongue? is she not here? Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight? Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such, Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough. MARGARET Say, Earl of Suffolk--if thy name be so-- What ransom must I pay before I pass? For I perceive I am thy prisoner. SUFFOLK How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit, Before thou make a trial of her love? MARGARET Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I pay? SUFFOLK She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore to be won. MARGARET Wilt thou accept of ransom? yea, or no. SUFFOLK Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife; Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? MARGARET I were best to leave him, for he will not hear. SUFFOLK There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card. MARGARET He talks at random; sure, the man is mad. SUFFOLK And yet a dispensation may be had. MARGARET And yet I would that you would answer me. SUFFOLK I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom? Why, for my king: tush, that's a wooden thing! MARGARET He talks of wood: it is some carpenter. SUFFOLK Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, And peace established between these realms But there remains a scruple in that too; For though her father be the King of Naples, Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, And our nobility will scorn the match.
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Contents

SCENE III. Before Angiers