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    Act 3. Scene III - Page 2

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    tender dying eyes,
    See, see the pining malady of France;
    Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,
    Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast.
    O, turn thy edged 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:
    Return thee therefore with a flood of tears,
    And wash away thy country's stained spots.

    BURGUNDY
    Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words,
    Or nature makes me suddenly relent.

    JOAN LA PUCELLE
    Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee,
    Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.
    Who joint'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 fashion'd thee that instrument of ill,
    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,
    Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe?
    And was he not in England prisoner?
    But when they heard he was thine enemy,
    They set him free without his ransom paid,
    In spite of Burgundy and all his friends.
    See, then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen
    And joint'st with them will be thy slaughtermen.
    Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord:
    Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.

    BURGUNDY
    I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers
    Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot,
    And made me almost yield upon my knees.
    Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen,
    And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace:
    My forces and my power of men are yours:
    So farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee.

    JOAN LA PUCELLE
    [Aside] Done like a Frenchman: turn, and turn again!

    CHARLES
    Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes us fresh.

    BASTARD OF ORLEANS
    And doth beget new courage in our breasts.

    ALENCON
    Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this,
    And doth deserve a coronet of gold.

    CHARLES
    Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers,
    And seek how we may prejudice the foe.

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