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,1
To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow,
Whereon to practise 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;2

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

(1) Foolish.

(2) For a purpose.

How can these contrarieties agree?

Tal. That will I show you presently.
He winds a horn. Drums heard; then a peal of
ordnance. The gates being forced, enter soldiers.
How say you, madam? are you now persuaded,
That Talbot is but shadow of himself?
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; 1
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?

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

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

(1) Announced loudly.

Suff. '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

between us.

War. Between two hawks, which flies the higher

pitch;

Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth;
Between two blades, which bears the better temper;
Between two horses, which doth bear him best ;1
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 ;2 and, without all colour
Of base insinuating flattery,
I pluck this white rose, with Plantagenet.

Suff. I pluck this red rose, with young Somerset; And say withal, I think he held the right.

Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen: and pluck no

more,

(1) i. e. Regulate his motions most adroitly.
(2) Tints and deceits: a play on the word,

Till you conclude-that he, upon whose side
The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree,
Shall yield the other in the right opinion.

Som. Good master Vernon, it is well objected;1
If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.
Plan. And I.

Ver. Then, for the truth and plainness of the case, I pluck this pale, and maiden blossom here, Giving my verdict on the white rose side.

Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off; Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red And fall on my side so against your will.

Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, And keep me on the side where still I am. Som. Well, well, come on: Who else? Law. Unless my study and my books be false, The argument you held, was wrong in you; [To Som. In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too.

Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? Som. Here, in my scabbard; meditating that,

Shall die your white rose in a bloody red.

Plan. Mean time, your cheeks do counterfeit

our roses;

For pale they look with fear, as witnessing
The truth on our side.

Som.

No, Plantagenet,

'Tis not for fear; but anger,-that thy cheeks, Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses; And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ? Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet? Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his

truth;

Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. Som. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding

roses,

That shall maintain what I have said is true,

(1) Justly proposed.

Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.
Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand,
I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.
Suff. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.
Plan. Proud Poole, I will; and scorn both him

and thee.

Suff. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. Som. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole! We grace the yeoman, by conversing with him. War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him,

Somerset;

His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence, Third son to the third Edward king of England; Spring crestless yeoment from so deep a root?

Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege, 2 Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus.

Som. By him that made me, I'll maintain my

words

On any plot of ground in Christendom:
Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge,
For treason executed in our late king's days?
And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted,
Corrupted, and exempt3 from ancient gentry?
His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood;
And, till thou be restor'd, thou art a yeoman.

Plan. My father was attached, not attainted;
Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor ;
And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset,
Were growing time once ripen'd to my will.
For your partaker4 Poole, and you yourself,
I'll note you in my book of memory,
To scourge you for this apprehension :5
Look to it well; and say you are well warn'd.
Som. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still:
And know us, by these colours, for thy foes;

(1) i. e. Those who have no right to arms.

(2) The Temple, being a religious house, was a

sanctuary.

(3) Excluded. (4) Confederate. (5) Opinion.