PUCELLE.
I am prepared. Here is my keen-edg’d sword,
Deck’d with five flower-de-luces on each side,
The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine’s churchyard,
Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.
CHARLES.
Then come, o’ God’s name; I fear no woman.
PUCELLE.
And while I live, I’ll ne’er fly from a man.
[Here they fight, and Joan la Pucelle overcomes.]
CHARLES.
Stay, stay thy hands; thou art an Amazon,
And fightest with the sword of Deborah.
PUCELLE.
Christ’s Mother helps me, else I were too weak.
CHARLES.
Whoe’er helps thee, ’tis thou that must help me.
Impatiently I burn with thy desire;
My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued.
Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so,
Let me thy servant and not sovereign be.
’Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus.
PUCELLE.
I must not yield to any rites of love,
For my profession’s sacred from above.
When I have chased all thy foes from hence,
Then will I think upon a recompense.
CHARLES.
Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall.
REIGNIER.
My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.