Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Pucell. Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that helpe:
Pucell. One drop of Blood drawne from thy Countries Bosome,
Pucell. Should grieue thee more then streames of forraine gore.
Pucell. Returne thee therefore with a floud of Teares,
Pucell. And wash away thy Countries stayned Spots.
Burg. Burg.
Burg. Either she hath bewitcht me with her words,
Burg. Or Nature makes me suddenly relent.
Pucell. Pucell.
Pucell. Besides, all French and France exclaimes on thee,
Pucell. Doubting thy Birth and lawfull Progenie.
Pucell. Who ioyn'st thou with, but with a Lordly Nation,
Pucell. That will not trust thee, but for profits sake?
Pucell. When Talbot hath set footing once in France,
Pucell. And fashion'd thee that Instrument of Ill,
Pucell. Who then, but English Henry, will be Lord,
Pucell. And thou be thrust out, like a Fugitiue?
Pucell. Call we to minde, and marke but this for proofe:
Pucell. Was not the Duke of Orleance thy Foe?
Pucell. And was he not in England Prisoner?