'Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, I'll lop a member off, and give it you, In earnest of a further benefit; So you do condescend to help me now. * * * * * Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice, Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? Then take my soul; my body, soul, and all, Before that England give the French the foil. See! they forsake me. * * * * * My ancient incantations are too weak And hell too strong for me to buckle with.' But a worthier, if contradictory, origin is assigned for her enthusiasm when she replies to the foul aspersion of her taunting captors-- 'Virtuous, and holy; chosen from above, By inspiration of celestial grace, To work exceeding miracles on earth, I never had to do with wicked spirits. But you--that are polluted with your lusts, Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices-- Because you want the grace that others have, You judge it straight a thing impossible To compass wonders, but by help of devils.' Her ecclesiastical judges then consigned their prisoner to the civil power; and, finally, in the words of Hume, 'this admirable heroine--to whom the more generous superstition of the ancients would have erected altars--was, on pretence of heresy and magic, delivered over alive to the flames; and expiated by that dreadful punishment the signal services she had rendered to her prince and to her native country.'[68] [68] _History of England_, XX. Shakspeare (_Henry VI._ part ii. act i.) has furnished us with the charms and incantations employed about the same time in the case of the Duchess of Gloucester. Mother Jourdain is the representative witch-hag.