And hell too strong for me to buckle with:
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. [Exit.
Excursions. Re-enter LA PUCELLE fighting hand to hand with YORK: LA PUCELLE is taken. The French fly.
[30] York. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast:
Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms
[♦] And try if they can gain your liberty.
A goodly prize, fit for the devil’s grace!
See, how the ugly wench doth bend her brows,
35 As if with Circe she would change my shape!
Puc. Changed to a worser shape thou canst not be.