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JOAN OF ARC.
Your native England; for the God of HostsThus has decreed. To Charles the rightful heir,By long descent and voluntary choiceOf duteous subjects, hath the Lord assign'd 195His conquest. In his name the Virgin comes,Arm'd with his sword, yet not of mercy void.Depart in peace: for ere the morrow dawns,Victorious upon Orleans' wall shall waveThe holy banner."Wonder made a pause; 200To this the laugh succeeds. "What!" Fastolffe cried, "A woman warrior has your monarch sentTo save devoted Orleans?" By the rood "I thank his Grace. If she be young and fairNo worthless prize my Lords. Go tell your Maid 205Joyful we wait her coming.""Get thee gone,"Sternly cried Talbot, "thou who think'st to scareWith girlish phantasies the English hostThat scorns your bravest warriors. Hie thee hence,

"Insolent

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