Johanna monologue (Act 2) — The Maid of Orleans: A Tragedy

Who called you over to this foreign land, To waste the blooming culture of our fields, To chase the peasant from his household hearth, And in our cities' peaceful sanctuary To hurl the direful thunderbolt of war? In the delusion of your hearts ye thought To plunge in servitude the freeborn French, And to attach their fair and goodly realm, Like a small boat, to your proud English bark! Ye fools! The royal arms of France are hung Fast by the throne of God; and ye as soon From the bright wain of heaven might snatch a star As rend a single village from this realm, Which shall remain inviolate forever! The day of vengeance is at length arrived; Not living shall ye measure back the sea, The sacred sea--the boundary set by God Betwixt our hostile nations--and the which Ye ventured impiously to overpass.