Die, friend! Why tremble at the approach of death? Of mortals the irrevocable doom? Look upon me! I'm born a shepherd maid; This hand, accustomed to the peaceful crook, Is all unused to wield the sword of death. Yet, snatched away from childhood's peaceful haunts, From the fond love of father and of sisters, Urged by no idle dream of earthly glory, But heaven-appointed to achieve your ruin, Like a destroying angel I must roam, Spreading dire havoc around me, and at length Myself must fall a sacrifice to death! Never again shall I behold my home! Still, many of your people I must slay, Still, many widows make, but I at length Myself shall perish, and fulfil my doom. Now thine fulfil. Arise! resume thy sword, And let us fight for the sweet prize of life. MONTGOMERY (stands up). Now, if thou art a mortal like myself, Can weapons wound thee, it may be assigned To this good arm to end my country's woe, Thee sending, sorceress, to the depths of hell. In God's most gracious hands I leave my fate. Accursed one! to thine assistance call The fiends of hell! Now combat for thy life! [He seizes his sword and shield, and rushes upon her; martial music is heard in the distance. After a short conflict MONTGOMERY falls.

Johanna Monologue from The Maid of Orleans: A Tragedy

Rehearse Johanna's monologue