The shameless son who sins against his mother! BURGUNDY. Ay! to avenge a husband and a father! ISABEL. To judge his mother's conduct he presumed! LIONEL. That was, indeed, irreverent in a son! ISABEL. And me, forsooth, he banished from the realm. TALBOT. Urged to the measure by the public voice. ISABEL. A curse light on him if I e'er forgive him! Rather than see him on his father's throne——     TALBOT. His mother's honor you would sacrifice! ISABEL. Your feeble natures cannot comprehend The vengeance of an outraged mother's heart. Who pleasures me, I love; who wrongs, I hate. If he who wrongs me chance to be my son, All the more worthy is he of my hate. The life I gave I will again take back From him who doth, with ruthless violence, The bosom rend which bore and nourished him. Ye, who do thus make war upon the Dauphin, What rightful cause have ye to plunder him? What crime hath he committed against you? What insult are you called on to avenge? Ambition, paltry envy, goad you on; I have a right to hate him—he's my son. TALBOT. He feels his mother in her dire revenge! ISABEL. Mean hypocrites! I hate you and despise. Together with the world, you cheat yourselves! With robber-hands you English seek to clutch This realm of France, where you have no just right, Nor equitable claim, to so much earth As could be covered by your charger's hoof.    —This duke, too, whom the people style the Good, Doth to a foreign lord, his country's foe, For gold betray the birthland of his sires. And yet is justice ever on your tongue.    —Hypocrisy I scorn. Such as I am, So let the world behold me! BURGUNDY. It is true! Your reputation you have well maintained. ISABEL. I've passions and warm blood, and as a queen Came to this realm to live, and not to seem. Should I have lingered out a joyless life Because the curse of adverse destiny To a mad consort joined my blooming youth? More than my life I prize my liberty. And who assails me here——But why should I Stoop to dispute with you about my rights? Your sluggish blood flows slowly in your veins! Strangers to pleasure, ye know only rage! This duke, too—who, throughout his whole career, Hath wavered to and fro, 'twixt good and ill—    Can neither love or hate with his whole heart.    —I go to Melun. Let this gentleman,       [Pointing to LIONEL. Who doth my fancy please, attend me there, To cheer my solitude, and you may work Your own good pleasure! I'll inquire no more Concerning the Burgundians or the English.        [She beckons to her PAGE, and is about to retire. LIONEL. Rely upon us, we will send to 

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