Reig. And I again in Henry's Royal name, Give thee her hand for fign of plighted faith. And yet, methinks, I could be well content [Afide. Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Chriftian Prince King Henry, were he here. Mar. Farewel, my Lord. Good wifhes, praife and pray'rs Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [She is going. Suf. Farewel, fweet Madam; hark you, Margaret; No princely commendations to my King? Mar. Such commendations as become a maid, A virgin, and his fervant, fay to him. Suf. Words fweetly plac'd, and modeftly directed. But, Madam, I muft trouble you again, No loving token to his Majefty? Mar. Yes, my good Lord, a pure unfpotted heart, Never yet taint with love, I fend the King. Suf. And this withal. [Kiffes her. Mar. That for thyfelf.I will not fo prefume 4 To fend fuch peevish tokens to a King. Suf. O, wert thou for myfelf!-but, Suffolk, ftay; Thou may'st not wander in that labyrinth; There Minotaurs, and ugly treafons, lurk. Sollicit Henry with her wond'rous praife, Bethink thee on her virtues that furmount, Her natʼral graces that extinguish art; Repeat their femblance often on the feas; + To fend fuch peevish tokens-] Peevish, for childish. WARE. That, when thou com'ft to kneel at Henry's feet, Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with wonder. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Enter York, Warwick, a Shepherd, and Pucelle. Have I fought ev'ry country far and near, Thou art no father, nor no friend of mine. Shep. Out, out!- - my Lords, an please you, 'tis not fo; I did beget her, all the parish knows, She was the firft, fruit of my batch'lorship. War. Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage ?1 York. This argues, what her kind of life hath been. Wicked and vile and fo her death concludes. Shep. Fy, Joan, that thou wilt be fo obftacle": God knows, thou art a collop of my flesh, And for thy fake have I fhed many a tear. Deny me not, I pray thee, gentle Joan. Pucel. Peasant, avaunt! You have fuborn'd this Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest, The morn that I was wedded to her mother. Kneel down and take my bleffing, good my girl. Wilt thou not stoop? now curfed be the time Of thy nativity! I would, the milk, Thy mother gave thee when thou fuck'dft her breaft, Or elfe, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field, Doft thou deny thy father, curfed drab? O, burn her, burn her; hanging is too good. [Exit York. Take her away, for the hath liv'd too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities. Pucel. First, let me tell demn'd. you, whom you have con Not me begotten of a fhepherd fwain, To work exceeding miracles on earth: Chafte and immaculate in very thought; Pucel. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts? I am with child, ye bloody homicides, York. Now heav'n forefend! the holy maid with child! War. The greatest miracle that ere you wrought. : Is all your ftrict precifenefs come to this? York. She and the Dauphin have been juggling; I did imagine, what would be her refuge. War. Well, go to; we will have no baftards live; Efpecially, fince Charles muft father it. Pucel. You are deceiv'd, my child is none of his; It was Alanson that enjoy'd my love. 7 York. Alanfon! that notorious Machiavel! It dies, an if it had a thousand lives. Pucel. O, give me leave; I have deluded you; 'Twas neither Charles, nor yet the Duke I nam'd, But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevail'd. War. A married man! that's moft intolerable. York. Why, here's a girl.—I think, fhe knows not well. There were fo many, whom fhe may accufe. War. It's a fign, fhe hath been liberal and free. York. And yet, forfooth, fhe is a virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee; Ufe no intreaty, for it is in vain. Pucel. Then lead me hence; with whom I leave my May never glorious fun reflect his beams 7 Alanfon? that notorious Machiavel.] Machiavel being mentioned fomewhat before his time, this line is by fome of the editors given to the players, and ejected from the text. Inviron you, 'till mischief and defpair $ 8 Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves! Exit guarded. York. Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashes, Thou foul accurfed minister of hell! SCENE VII. Enter Cardinal of Winchester. Car. Lord Regent, I do greet your Excellence York. Is all our travel turn'd to this effect? 8-'till mischief and defpair Drive you to break your necks,-] Perhaps Shakespeare intended to remark in this execration, the frequency of fuicide among the English, which has been commonly imputed to the gloominefs of their air. 9 Betwixt our nation and th' ASPIRING French ;] But would an Ambaffador, who came to perfuade peace with France, ufe it as an argument, that France was afpiring. Shakespeare without doubt wrote, th' RESPIRING French. i, e. who had but just got into breath again, after having been almost hunted down by the Englib. WARBURTON, The ambaffador yet ufes no argument; but if he did, refpiring would not much help the caufe. Shakespeare wrote what might be pronounced, and therefore did not write th’refpiring. Pp4 The |