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!
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.
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.
Excursions. Enter French and English, fighting.
LA PUCELLE and YORK fight hand to hand; LA PUCELLE
is taken. The French fly
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 witch doth bend her brows
As if, with Circe, she would change my shape!
Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be.
O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man:
No shape but his can please your dainty eye.
A plaguing mischief fight on Charles and thee!
And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd
By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!
Fell banning hag; enchantress, hold thy tongue.
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 my name, and daughter to a king,
The King of Naples--whosoe'er thou art.
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.
O, stay! [Aside] 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 thy prisoner?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such
Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.
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 [Aside] How canst thou tell she will deny thy
Before thou make a trial of her love?
Why speak'st thou not? What ransom must I
SUFFOLK [Aside] She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd;
She is a woman, therefore to be won.
SUFFOLK [Aside] 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.
Hear ye, Captain--are you not at leisure?
SUFFOLK [Aside] It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much.
Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.
Madam, I have a secret to reveal.
MARGARET [Aside] What though I be enthrall'd? He seems
And will not any way dishonour me.
Suffolk, what remedy?
I am a soldier and unapt to weep
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.
Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord.
Consent, and for thy honour give consent,
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king,
Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto;
And this her easy-held imprisonment
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.
Welcome, brave Earl, into our territories;
Command in Anjou what your Honour pleases.
Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child,
Fit to be made companion with a king.
What answer makes your Grace unto my suit?
Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth
To be the princely bride of such a lord,
Upon condition I may quietly
Enjoy mine own, the country Maine and Anjou,
Free from oppression or the stroke of war,
My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.
That is her ransom; I deliver her.
And those two counties I will undertake
Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy.
And I again, in Henry's royal name,
As deputy unto that gracious king,
Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith.
Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,
Because this is in traffic of a king. [Aside] And yet, methinks, I could be well content
To be mine own attorney in this case.
I'll over then to England with this news,
And make this marriage to be solemniz'd.
So, farewell, Reignier. Set this diamond safe
In golden palaces, as it becomes.
I do embrace thee as I would embrace
The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here.
Farewell, my lord. Good wishes, praise, and
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.
O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay;
Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth:
There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.
Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise.
Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,
And natural graces that extinguish art;
Repeat their semblance often on the seas,
That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet,
Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder.