Bast. Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd: 48
Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?
Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand:
A holy maid hither with me I bring,
Which by a vision sent to her from heaven 52
Ordained is to raise this tedious siege,
And drive the English forth the bounds of France.
The spirit of deep prophecy she hath,
Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome; 56
What's past and what's to come she can descry.
Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words,
For they are certain and unfallible.
Char. Go, call her in. [Exit Bastard.] But first, to try her skill, 60
Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place:
Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern:
By this means shall we sound what skill she hath.
Enter Joan Pucelle [with Bastard].
Reig. Fair maid, is 't thou wilt do these wondrous feats? 64
Joan. Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to beguile me?
Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from behind;
I know thee well, though never seen before.
Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me: 68
In private will I talk with thee apart.
Stand back, you lords, and give us leave a while.
Reig. She takes upon her bravely at first dash.
Joan. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter, 72
My wit untrain'd in any kind of art.
48 cheer appall'd: mood dejected
56 nine sibyls; cf. n.
