open hearts Against me closed in hatred's cold reserve. SOREL. The people's eye is dimmed, an error blinds them, But this delusion will not long endure; The day is not far distant when the love Deep rooted in the bosom of the French, Towards their native monarch, will revive, Together with the ancient jealousy, Which forms a barrier 'twixt the hostile nations. The haughty foe precipitates his doom. Hence, with rash haste abandon not the field, With dauntless front contest each foot of ground, As thine own heart defend the town of Orleans! Let every boat be sunk beneath the wave, Each bridge be burned, sooner than carry thee Across the Loire, the boundary of thy realm, The Stygian flood, o'er which there's no return. CHARLES. What could be done I have done. I have offered, In single fight, to combat for the crown. I was refused. In vain my people bleed, In vain my towns are levelled with the dust. Shall I, like that unnatural mother, see My child in pieces severed with the sword? No; I forego my claim, that it may live. DUNOIS. How, sire! Is this fit language for a king? Is a crown thus renounced? Thy meanest subject, For his opinion's sake, his hate and love, Sets property and life upon a cast; When civil war hangs out her bloody flag, Each private end is drowned in party zeal.    The husbandman forsakes his plough, the wife Neglects her distaff; children, and old men, Don the rude garb of war; the citizen Consigns his town to the devouring flames, The peasant burns the produce of his fields; And all to injure or advantage thee, And to achieve the purpose of his heart. Men show no mercy, and they wish for none, When they at honor's call maintain the fight, Or for their idols or their gods contend. A truce to such effeminate pity, then, Which is not suited to a monarch's breast. Thou didst not heedlessly provoke the war; As it commenced, so let it spend its fury. It is the law of destiny that nations Should for their monarchs immolate themselves. We Frenchmen recognize this sacred law, Nor would annul it. Base, indeed, the nation That for its honor ventures not its all. CHARLES (to the SENATORS). You've heard my last resolve; expect no other. May God protect you! I can do no more. DUNOIS. As thou dost turn thy back upon thy realm, So may the God of battle aye avert His visage from thee. Thou forsak'st thyself, So I forsake thee. Not the power combined Of England and rebellious Burgundy, Thy own mean spirit hurls thee from the throne. Born heroes ever were the kings of France; Thou wert a craven, even from thy birth.       [To the SENATORS. The king 

 Prev. P 24/81 next