WARWICK.
The greatest miracle that e’er ye wrought!
Is all your strict preciseness come to this?
YORK.
She and the Dauphin have been juggling.
I did imagine what would be her refuge.
WARWICK.
Well, go to; we’ll have no bastards live,
Especially since Charles must father it.
PUCELLE.
You are deceived; my child is none of his.
It was Alençon that enjoy’d my love.
YORK.
Alençon, that notorious Machiavel!
It dies and if it had a thousand lives.
PUCELLE.
O, give me leave, I have deluded you.
’Twas neither Charles nor yet the Duke I named,
But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevail’d.
WARWICK.
A married man! That’s most intolerable.
YORK.
Why, here’s a girl! I think she knows not well—
There were so many—whom she may accuse.
WARWICK.
It’s sign she hath been liberal and free.
YORK.
And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure!
Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee.
Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.