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Read Ebook: Joan of Arc: A Play in Five Acts by Sargant J A Jane Alice
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Ebook has 439 lines and 27511 words, and 9 pages
OFF. Is he dead? I saw brave Warwick rushing to his rescue.
ARL. He came too late. From heaps of slain he snatched him, Then bore him to a distance, yet alive; But dews of death were gathering on his brow, And his dim eye betrayed departure near. He dared not turn him on his side, lest life From that deep welling wound should 'scape too fast. He watched the sun go down, and darker shades O'erspread his face. Impatient now become, Often he murmured to himself and said, "It is too late; he will not come, and I Must die at last without my father's blessing."
OFF. Many brave hearts will mourn for him: he was A noble scion of a noble stem.
ARL. We thought that he was gone, when the quick step Of his despairing father sounded near. Stern death relaxed his hold, and for short space Allowed his spirit to reanimate His chilly frame. He raised him on his side, Clung round his father's neck, and looking on him, Feebly he said, "Have I done well, my father? Am I John Talbot's son?" "Too well! too well! My brave"--was all the father could reply; But 'twas enough--the young man caught the sound. And dropping back his head, he smiled and died.
OFF. And his brave sire?
ARL. As if transfixed, he gazed, And mute--then by the body of his son He threw him down, kissed his cold lips, and oft, Midst sobs, he cried, "And art thou gone so soon? Thy morning ended ere thy noon begun; And such a noon!" but sudden on his hands He saw the crimson stain of that dear blood, And like a lion maddened at the sight, His grief was checked, and springing on his feet He seized his massy sword, and wildly rushed Into the fight.
OFF. See figures in the dusk Moving apace.
ARL. Let's draw aside.
OFF. They make For yonder cottage.
WIDOW OF CAMOUSE.
WID. Half light, half dark. Oh, would that reason's lamp Were utterly extinct, and I could lose The sense that thus I am a tomb to self, Where the dim taper only shows its gloom. Then I should feel no more, no longer mourn, And my poor heart would cease to throb, my head To burn. One,--three are gone, and now the last. I have no more to lose! I'll lay him in the bed these hands have dug, and then I'll seek The spirits of my lord and other boys, And bring them here to see, how, e'en in poverty, I've made a home fitting Camouse's son. E'en now I lose myself, and at my folly Smile while I weep. But hark! what steps are these? I must within and guard.
FIRST SOL. Stay! we are hungry and thirsty.--What have you to give us to eat?
WID. My food is woe; and such my appetite I am not to be cloyed, though e'en to surfeit I've been supplied.
SECOND SOL. Her words are strange--her manner is stranger still.-- Hunger is not nice, to be sure.
FIRST SOL. I see but little chance of satisfying hunger here.
SECOND SOL. Ho! there is a smell of wine!--produce it!--come! quick! Our master is at hand.
WID. Those arms upon their shields! Away! no longer blast me with your sight.
FIRST SOL. When we have got what we wish, we will.--The wine, the wine, or look, this shall find it.
WID. Think you I care for threat of you, or yours? Back with your sword; I fear ye not, I tell you; And mark! a fiercer thirst ye all shall have, Nor find one drop to cool your burning tongue.
SECOND SOL. Don't exasperate her; these are strange times, and--
FIRST SOL. Pshaw! the wine we'll have!
SOL. She's mad! She does not know what she says.
WID. I tell ye truth. If I be mad, 'tis ye Have made me so.
SOL. 'Tis false! we do not even know you.
CHARLES. LOUVEL.
CHA. Oh! fickle hearts of men. Three months ago, When the prompt aid of fifty men had been A boon worth warmest thanks, nor threats nor pray'rs Could move a foot to join us. Now, forsooth, When less we need it, we have aid abundant. Towns that but lately would have closed their gates E'en in our face, if we had asked a refuge, Fling now their portals wide, and sue our entrance. Thou know'st the Constable is on his way?
CHA. It is not known.
LOU. To serve himself, no doubt. His ev'ry thought is self.
CHA. Well do we know him. Our fortune hath not forged a chain more galling Than that which binds us to a man we hate. Howe'er, his views will quickly now be known:-- The maid is sent to meet him.
LOU. Was this prudent? Should his intent be mischief, would he scruple, E'en by the nearest road, to blast our hopes?
CHA. She hath a chosen guard for her protection, With Xaintrailles at their head. He dare not harm her! Yet would they were returned: in honour's name, We rather would forego the crown she promised, Than ought of evil should befall the maid.
LOU. That none will doubt: she has a double claim; To thee her sex's charms--
CHA. We charge thee, Louvel, Breathe not a word like this: her simple grandeur Checks all idle thought, and spreads around her The very purity which decks herself.
What tidings? say, have swords been interchanged, Or comes he peacefully?
XAINT. Affection leads him, Such were his words, to greet your change of fortune.
LOU. True regard has never brought him; but wish The world should fancy he has set the crown Upon your grace's head, his favoured presence Needed.
CHA. Then we will show him he mistakes. We owe him nothing but most cordial hatred, And come what may, that day's felicity Shall not be marred by sight of him.
LOU. My liege, You surely will not dare refuse!
CHA. Not dare! The prince too fearful to resent an insult, Proves oft too mean to recompense a friend. Relate what passed between the maid and him.
XAINT. Rumour had told him, or his heart suggested, He might be deemed an enemy. Awhile He gazed upon us with a fixed regard; But when he saw the maid, his black lip curled, And his sharp features grew still more contracted. Few could have borne that look malign, and fewer Not quailed beneath it.
CHA. But the maid,--she bore it?
XAINT. As one completely armed in innocence: The peace within shed lustre o'er her face, And sense of merit brightly tinged her cheek. Alighting gracefully from her proud steed, She bent her knee, and made low reverence.
CHA. 'Twas rev'rence ill bestowed--she's his superior, And all that ministers to feed his vanity Were well to spare. Proceed.
XAINT. Your grace has seen How, when a storm arises, the dark cloud, Pregnant with thunder, scowls upon the meadow Placidly fair, where still the gay beam lingers, Before its vengeance bursts. He deigned no courtesy. His chest swelled high, and thus he spake abruptly:-- "Thou hast design, I see, to fight with me; I know not who thou art, nor who hath sent thee; Or heav'n, or hell,--but of this be certain, I fear thee not, and bid thee do thy best, Or worst, as pleases thee,--it matters not."
LOU. Most insolent! The insult shown to her Was meant for thee.
CHA. It is not lost. Behold him!
LOU. Smooth thy brow. We must not yet offend one Who may injure us.
RICHE. I forestall all messages, And come on duty's wings to tend my homage, With all expressions of my joy, to offer On this most happy turn of your affairs.
CHA. Our thanks, as due, are thine.
RICHE. Rumour reports Your highness means forthwith to pass to Rheims, And there in state--
CHA. Then rumour speaks the truth.
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