Original
Modern English
Dismay not, princes, at this accident, Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered: Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, For things that are not to be remedied. Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while And like a peacock sweep along his tail; We’ll pull his plumes and take away his train, If Dauphin and the rest will be but ruled.
Don’t be upset, princes, about this setback, Nor grieve that Rouen has been taken back: Worrying won’t help, it just makes things worse, For things that can’t be fixed. Let wild Talbot celebrate for now And like a peacock, strut around with pride; We’ll pluck his feathers and take away his train, If Dauphin and the others will just listen to us.
We have been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy cunning had no diffidence: One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.
We’ve followed your guidance so far, And had no doubt about your cleverness: One defeat will never make us lose trust in you.
Search out thy wit for secret policies, And we will make thee famous through the world.
Use your wit for secret strategies, And we’ll make you famous all over the world.
We’ll set thy statue in some holy place, And have thee reverenced like a blessed saint: Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.
We’ll place your statue in a holy spot, And honor you like a blessed saint: Then we’ll put you to work, sweet virgin, for our benefit.
Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: By fair persuasions mix’d with sugar’d words We will entice the Duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot and to follow us.
Then this is the plan; this is what Joan suggests: With sweet words mixed with charm, We’ll persuade the Duke of Burgundy To leave Talbot and follow us.
Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for Henry’s warriors; Nor should that nation boast it so with us, But be extirped from our provinces.
Yes, indeed, my dear, if we can do that, France would no longer be a place for Henry’s warriors; And that nation would no longer boast of having power over us, But be completely driven out of our lands.
For ever should they be expulsed from France And not have title of an earldom here.
Forever should they be expelled from France And never hold an earldom here.
Your honours shall perceive how I will work To bring this matter to the wished end.
You’ll see how I’ll work to bring this to the desired conclusion.
Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.
Listen! By the sound of the drum, you can tell Their army is marching towards Paris.
There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, And all the troops of English after him.
There goes Talbot, with his flags flying, And all the English troops following him.
Now in the rearward comes the duke and his: Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. Summon a parley; we will talk with him.
Now coming from behind is the duke and his men: Luck is on his side, making him fall behind. Call for a parley; we’ll talk to him.
A parley with the Duke of Burgundy!
A parley with the Duke of Burgundy!
Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?
Who asks for a parley with Burgundy?
The princely Charles of France, thy countryman.
The noble Charles of France, your countryman.
What say’st thou, Charles? for I am marching hence.
What do you want, Charles? I’m leaving now.
Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.
Speak, Pucelle, and charm him with your words.
Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
Brave Burgundy, unquestionable hope of France! Stay, let your humble servant speak to you.
Speak on; but be not over-tedious.
Speak on; but don’t take too long.
Look on thy country, look on fertile France, And see the cities and the towns defaced By wasting ruin of the cruel foe. As looks the mother on her lowly babe When death doth close his tender dying eyes, See, see the pining malady of France; Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast. O, turn thy edged sword another way; Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help. One drop of blood drawn from thy country’s bosom Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore: Return thee therefore with a flood of tears, And wash away thy country’s stained spots.
Look at your country, look at fertile France, And see the cities and towns ruined By the devastating force of the cruel enemy. It’s like how a mother looks at her dying child When death closes its soft, dying eyes, See the suffering of France; Look at the wounds, the unnatural wounds, Which you yourself have given to her grieving chest. Oh, turn your sharp sword the other way; Strike those who hurt, and don’t hurt those who help. One drop of blood spilled from your country’s heart Should pain you more than rivers of foreign blood: So return, and weep for your country’s stains.
Either she hath bewitch’d me with her words, Or nature makes me suddenly relent.
Either she’s enchanted me with her words, Or my nature is suddenly making me change my mind.
Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. Who joint’st thou with but with a lordly nation That will not trust thee but for profit’s sake? When Talbot hath set footing once in France And fashion’d thee that instrument of ill, Who then but English Henry will be lord And thou be thrust out like a fugitive? Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof, Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe? And was he not in England prisoner? But when they heard he was thine enemy, They set him free without his ransom paid, In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. See, then, thou fight’st against thy countrymen And joint’st with them will be thy slaughtermen. Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord: Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.
Besides, all of France is speaking against you, Doubting your birth and rightful ancestry. Who are you allied with but a noble nation That will only trust you for their own gain? When Talbot sets foot in France And makes you his tool of harm, Who will be in charge but English Henry, And you’ll be cast out like a runaway? Let’s remember this, and use it as proof, Wasn’t the Duke of Orleans your enemy? And wasn’t he captured in England? But when they heard he was your foe, They freed him without paying a ransom, Defying Burgundy and all his allies. So now, you’re fighting against your own people And joining them will lead to your own destruction. Come, return; come back, wandering lord: Charles and the others will welcome you with open arms.
I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers Have batter’d me like roaring cannon-shot, And made me almost yield upon my knees. Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen, And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace: My forces and my power of men are yours: So farewell, Talbot; I’ll no longer trust thee.
I’ve been defeated; her proud words Have struck me like a roaring cannonball, And almost brought me to my knees. Forgive me, my country, and my dear countrymen, And, lords, accept this heartfelt embrace: My forces and my power are now yours: So goodbye, Talbot; I won’t trust you anymore.
[Aside] Done like a Frenchman: turn, and turn again!
[Aside] Done like a Frenchman: turn, and turn again!
Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes us fresh.
Welcome, brave duke! your friendship lifts our spirits.
And doth beget new courage in our breasts.
And gives us new courage in our hearts.
Pucelle hath bravely play’d her part in this, And doth deserve a coronet of gold.
Pucelle has done her part bravely here, And deserves a golden crown.
Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers, And seek how we may prejudice the foe.
Now let’s move forward, my lords, and join our forces, And find a way to harm the enemy.