Page 246 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 246
Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words. [40]
PUCELLE
Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France,
Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
BURGUNDY
Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
PUCELLE
Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
And see the cities and the towns defaced [45]
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe
As looks the mother on her lowly babe
When death doth close his tender-dying eyes.
See, see the pining malady of France;
Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds [50]
Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast.
O turn thy edgèd sword another way:
Strike those that hurt and hurt not those that help.
One drop of blood drawn from thy country’s bosom
Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore. [55]
Return thee therefore with a flood of tears,
And wash away thy country’s stainèd spots.
BURGUNDY
[aside]
Either she hath bewitched me with her words,
Or nature makes me suddenly relent.
PUCELLE
Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, [60]
Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.
Who join’st thou with, but with a lordly nation
That will not trust thee but for profit’s sake?
When Talbot hath set footing once in France
And fashioned thee that instrument of ill, [65]
Who then but English Henry will be lord,
And thou be thrust out like a fugitive?
Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof:
