The Maid of Orleans (play)

SCENE IX.

A KNIGHT with closed visor, JOHANNA.

KNIGHT.

Accursed one! thy hour of death has come!

Long have I sought thee on the battle-field,

Fatal delusion! get thee back to hell,

Whence thou didst issue forth.

JOHANNA.

Say, who art thou,

Whom his bad genius sendeth in my way?

Princely thy port, no Briton dost thou seem,

For the Burgundian colors stripe thy shield,

Before the which my sword inclines its point.

KNIGHT.

Vile castaway! Thou all unworthy art

To fall beneath a prince's noble hand.

The hangman's axe should thy accursed head

Cleave from thy trunk, unfit for such vile use

The royal Duke of Burgundy's brave sword.

JOHANNA.

Art thou indeed that noble duke himself?

KNIGHT (raises his visor).

I'm he, vile creature, tremble and despair!

The arts of hell shall not protect thee more.

Thou hast till now weak dastards overcome;

Now thou dost meet a man.