scornfully rejoined "He needed not To fight for that which he possessed already, But if thou wert so eager for the fray, Before the walls of Orleans thou wouldst find him, Whither he purposed going on the morrow;"    Thereon he laughing turned his back upon me. CHARLES. Say, did not justice raise her sacred voice, Within the precincts of my parliament? LA HIRE. The rage of party, sire, hath silenced her. An edict of the parliament declares Thee and thy race excluded from the throne. DUNOIS. These upstart burghers' haughty insolence! CHARLES. Hast thou attempted with my mother aught? LA HIRE. With her? CHARLES. Ay! How did she demean herself? LA HIRE (after a few moments' reflection). I chanced to step within St. Denis' walls Precisely at the royal coronation. The crowds were dressed as for a festival; Triumphal arches rose in every street Through which the English monarch was to pass. The way was strewed with flowers, and with huzzas, As France some brilliant conquest had achieved, The people thronged around the royal car. SOREL. They could huzza—huzza, while trampling thus Upon a gracious sovereign's loving heart! LA HIRE. I saw young Harry Lancaster—the boy—    On good St. Lewis' regal chair enthroned; On either side his haughty uncles stood, Bedford and Gloucester, and before him kneeled, To render homage for his lands, Duke Philip. CHARLES. Oh, peer dishonored! Oh, unworthy cousin! LA HIRE. The child was timid, and his footing lost As up the steps he mounted towards the throne. An evil omen! murmured forth the crowd, And scornful laughter burst on every side. Then forward stepped Queen Isabel—thy mother, And—but it angers me to utter it! CHARLES. Say on. LA HIRE. Within her arms she clasped the boy, And herself placed him on thy father's throne. CHARLES. Oh, mother! mother! LA HIRE. E'en the murderous bands Of the Burgundians, at this spectacle,    Evinced some tokens of indignant shame. The queen perceived it, and addressed the crowds, Exclaiming with loud voice: "Be grateful, Frenchmen, That I engraft upon a sickly stock A healthy scion, and redeem you from The misbegotten son of a mad sire!"        [The KING hides his face; AGNES hastens towards him and clasps him in her arms; all the bystanders express aversion and horror. DUNOIS. She-wolf of France! Rage-breathing Megara! CHARLES (after a pause, to the SENATORS). Yourselves have heard the posture of affairs. Delay no longer, back return to Orleans, And bear this message to my faithful town; I do absolve my subjects from their 

 Prev. P 22/81 next