Page 286 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

This argues what her kind of life hath been, [15] Exit.
Wicked and vile, and so her death concludes.

SHEPHERD

Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle!
God knows thou art a collop of my flesh,
And for thy sake have I shed many a tear.
Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan. [20]

PUCELLE

Peasant, avaunt! - You have suborned this man
Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.

SHEPHERD

’Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest
The morn that I was wedded to her mother. -
Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl. [25]
Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursèd be the time
Of thy nativity! I would the milk
Thy mother gave thee when thou suck’dst her breast
Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake!
Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field, [30]
I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee!
Dost thou deny thy father, cursèd drab? -
O burn her, burn her: hanging is too good.

Y ORK

Take her away, for she hath lived too long
To fill the world with vicious qualities. [35]

PUCELLE

First let me tell you whom you have condemned:
Not one begotten of a shepherd swain
But issued from the progeny of kings;
Virtuous and holy, chosen from above
By inspiration of celestial grace [40]
To work exceeding miracles on earth.
I never had to do with wicked spirits;
But you, that are polluted with your lusts,