With modesty admiring thy renown,

By me entreats, good lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe
To visit her poor castle where she lies;1
That she may boast, she hath beheld the man
Whose glory fills the world with loud report.
Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see, our wars
Will turn unto a peaceful comick sport,
When ladies crave to be encounter'd with.
You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.

Tal. Ne'er trust me then; for, when a world of men Could not prevail with all their oratory,

Yet hath a woman's kindness over-ruled:
And therefore tell her, I return great thanks;
And in submission will attend on her. -
Will not your honours bear me company?

Bed. No, truly; it is more than manners will:
And I have heard it said, - Unbidden guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone.

Tal. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy, I mean to prove this lady's courtesy.

Come hither, captain. [whispers.]-You perceive my mind.

Capt. I do, my lord; and mean accordingly [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Auvergne. Court of the Castle.

Enter the Countess and her Porter.

Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge; And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.

Port. Madam, I will.

[Exit.

Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out right, I shall as famous be by this exploit,

As Scythian Thomyris by Cyrus' death.

Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight,
And his achievements of no less account:

Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears,
To give their censure of these rare reports.

Enter Messenger and TALBOT.

Mess. Madam,

According as your ladyship desir'd,

By message crav'd, so is lord Talbot come.
Count. And he is welcome.

Mess. Madam, it is.

Count.

What! is this the man?

Is this the scourge of France?

Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad,

That with his name the mothers still their babes?
I see, report is fabulous and false:

I thought, I should have seen some Hercules,
A second Hector, for his grim aspéct,

And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs.
Alas! this is a child, a silly dwarf:

It cannot be, this weak and writhled3 shrimp

Should strike such terror to his enemies.

Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you: But, since your ladyship is not at leisure,

I'll sort some other time to visit you.

Count. What means he now? Go ask him, whither

he goes.

Mess. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady craves
To know the cause of your abrupt departure.
Tal. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,
I go to certify her, Talbot's here.

Re-enter Porter, with Keys.

Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.
Tal. Prisoner! to whom?

Count.

To me, blood-thirsty lord;

And for that cause I train'd thee to my house.
Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me,
For in my gallery thy picture hangs :

But now the substance shall endure the like;
And I will chain these legs and arms of thine,
That hast by tyranny, these many years,

Wasted our country, slain our citizens,
And sent our sons and husbands captivate.
Tal. Ha, ha, ha!

Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn

to moan.

Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond,*
To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow,
Whereon to practice your severity.

Count. Why, art not thou the man?

Tal.

I am indeed.

Count. Then have I substance too.
Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself:
You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here;
For what you see, is but the smallest part
And least proportion of humanity:

I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here,
It is of such a spacious lofty pitch,

Your roof were not sufficient to contain it.

Count. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce;

He will be here, and yet he is not here:

How can these contrarieties agree?

Tal. That will I show you presently.

He winds a Horn. Drums heard; then a Peal of OrdThe Gates being forced, enter Soldiers.

nance.

How say you, madam? are you now persuaded,
That Talbot is but shadow of himself?

4 —so fond,] i. e, so foolish.

These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength,
With which he yoketh your rebellious necks;
Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns,
And in a moment makes them desolate.

Count. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse:
I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited, 5
And more than may be gather'd by thy shape.
Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath;
For I am sorry, that with reverence

I did not entertain thee as thou art.

Tal. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconstrue The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake

The outward composition of his body.

What you have done, hath not offended me:
No other satisfaction do I crave,

But only (with your patience,) that we may
Taste of your wine, and see what cates you have;
For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.

Count. With all my heart; and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

London. The Temple Garden.

Enter the Earls of SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK; RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and another Lawyer.

Plan. Great lords, and gentlemen, what means this silence?

Dare no man answer in a case of truth?

Suf. Within the Temple hall we were too loud; The garden here is more convenient.

5 bruited,] To bruit is to proclaim with noise, to announce loudly.

Plan. Then say at once, If I maintain'd the truth;
Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in the error?

Suf. 'Faith, I have been a truant in the law;
And never yet could frame my will to it;
And, therefore, frame the law unto my will.

Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then be

tween us.

War. Between two hawks, which flies the higher

pitch,

6

Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,
Between two blades, which bears the better temper,
Between two horses, which doth bear him best,
Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye,
I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment:
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:
The truth appears so naked on my side,
That any purblind eye may find it out.

Som. And on my side it is so well apparell'd,

So clear, so shining, and so evident,

That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye.

Plan. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and so loath to

speak,

In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts:

Let him, that is a true-born gentleman,

And stands upon the honour of his birth,

If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,

From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.

Som. Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer, But dare maintain the party of the truth,

Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.

War. I love no colours; and, without all colour Of base insinuating flattery,

I pluck this white rose, with Plantagenet.

6 bear him best,] i. e. regulate his motions most adroitly. 7 I love no colours;] Colours is here used ambiguously for tints and deceits.