The Maid of Orleans: A Tragedy Part 14

ISABEL.

To judge his mother's conduct he presumed!

LIONEL.

That was, indeed, irreverent in a son!

ISABEL.

And me, forsooth, he banished from the realm.

TALBOT.

Urged to the measure by the public voice.

ISABEL.

A curse light on him if I e'er forgive him!

Rather than see him on his father's throne----

TALBOT.

His mother's honor you would sacrifice!

ISABEL.

Your feeble natures cannot comprehend The vengeance of an outraged mother's heart.

Who pleasures me, I love; who wrongs, I hate.

If he who wrongs me chance to be my son, All the more worthy is he of my hate.

The life I gave I will again take back From him who doth, with ruthless violence, The bosom rend which bore and nourished him.

Ye, who do thus make war upon the Dauphin, What rightful cause have ye to plunder him?

What crime hath he committed against you?

What insult are you called on to avenge?

Ambition, paltry envy, goad you on; I have a right to hate him--he's my son.

TALBOT.

He feels his mother in her dire revenge!

ISABEL.

Mean hypocrites! I hate you and despise.

Together with the world, you cheat yourselves!

With robber-hands you English seek to clutch This realm of France, where you have no just right, Nor equitable claim, to so much earth As could be covered by your charger's hoof.

--This duke, too, whom the people style the Good, Doth to a foreign lord, his country's foe, For gold betray the birthland of his sires.

And yet is justice ever on your tongue.

--Hypocrisy I scorn. Such as I am, So let the world behold me!

BURGUNDY.

It is true!

Your reputation you have well maintained.

ISABEL.

I've pa.s.sions and warm blood, and as a queen Came to this realm to live, and not to seem.

Should I have lingered out a joyless life Because the curse of adverse destiny To a mad consort joined my blooming youth?

More than my life I prize my liberty.

And who a.s.sails me here----But why should I Stoop to dispute with you about my rights?

Your sluggish blood flows slowly in your veins!

Strangers to pleasure, ye know only rage!

This duke, too--who, throughout his whole career, Hath wavered to and fro, 'twixt good and ill-- Can neither love or hate with his whole heart.

--I go to Melun. Let this gentleman, [Pointing to LIONEL.

Who doth my fancy please, attend me there, To cheer my solitude, and you may work Your own good pleasure! I'll inquire no more Concerning the Burgundians or the English.

[She beckons to her PAGE, and is about to retire.

LIONEL.

Rely upon us, we will send to Melun The fairest youths whom we in battle take.

[Coming back.

ISABEL.

Skilful your arm to wield the sword of death, The French alone can round the polished phrase.

[She goes out.

SCENE III.

TALBOT, BURGUNDY, LIONEL.

TALBOT.

Heavens! What a woman!

LIONEL.

Now, brave generals, Your counsel! Shall we prosecute our flight, Or turn, and with a bold and sudden stroke Wipe out the foul dishonor of to-day?

BURGUNDY.

We are too weak, our soldiers are dispersed, The recent terror still unnerves the host.

TALBOT.

Blind terror, sudden impulse of a moment, Alone occasioned our disastrous rout.

This phantom of the terror-stricken brain, More closely viewed will vanish into air.

My counsel, therefore, is, at break of day, To lead the army back, across the stream, To meet the enemy.

BURGUNDY.

Consider well----

LIONEL.

Your pardon! Here is nothing to consider What we have lost we must at once retrieve, Or look to be eternally disgraced.

TALBOT.

It is resolved. To-morrow morn we fight, This dread-inspiring phantom to destroy, Which thus doth blind and terrify the host Let us in fight encounter this she-devil.

If she oppose her person to our sword, Trust me, she never will molest us more; If she avoid our stroke--and be a.s.sured She will not stand the hazard of a battle-- Then is the dire enchantment at an end?

LIONEL.

So be it! And to me, my general, leave This easy, bloodless combat, for I hope Alive to take this ghost, and in my arms, Before the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's eyes--her paramour-- To bear her over to the English camp, To be the sport and mockery of the host.