Tal. Here is the Talbot, who would speak with him ? Mel. The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne, With modefty, admiring thy renown,

By me intreats, great lord, thou would'st vouchsafe
To vifit her poor Castle where fhe lyes;
That she may boaft the hath beheld the man,
Whofe glory fills the world with loud report.

Bur. Is it ev'n fo? nay, then, I fee, our wars
Will turn into a peaceful comick sport;
When ladies crave to be encounter'd with.
You can't, my lord, defpife her gentle fuit.

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-rul'd:
And therefore tell her, I return great thanks;
And in fubmiffion will attend on her.

Will not your honours bear me company?

Bed. No, truly, that is more than manners will:
And I have heard it faid, unbidden guests
Are often welcomeft when they are gone.

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

Come hither, captain; you perceive my mind. [Whispers. Capt. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. [Exeunt.

SCENE, the Countess of Auvergne's Caftle.

Count.

Enter the Countess, and her Porter.

ORTER, remember what I gave in charge;
And, when you've done fo, bring the keys

POR

to me.

Port. Madam, I will.

Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out righ,

I shall as famous be by this exploit,

As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death.

[Exit.

Great is the rumour of this dreadful Knight,
And his atchievements of no less account:

Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears,
To give their cenfure of these rare reports.
I 4

Enter

Enter Menger and Talbot.

Me. Madam, according as your lady ship

By meffage crav'd, fo is lord Talbot come.

Count. And he is welcome; what! is this the man ? Meff. Madam, it is.

Count. Is this the fcourge of France?

Is this the Talbot fo much fear'd abroad,

That with his name the mothers ftill their babes? (12)

I fee, report is fabulous and falfe.

I thought, I fhould have feen fome Hercules;
A fecond Hector, for his grim afpect,

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

It cannot be, this weak and writhled Shrimp
Should ftrike fuch terror in his enemies.

Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you:
But fince your ladyfhip is not at leifure,

I'll fort fome other time to visit you.

[goes.

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

Meff. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady craves

To know the cause of your abrupt departure.
Tal. Marry, for that fhe's in a wrong belief,

I go to certifie her, Talbot's here.

Enter Porter with keys.

Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.
Tal. Pris'ner? to whom?

Count. To me, blood-thirfty lord:

And for that cause I train'd thee to my house.
Long time thy fhadow hath been thrall to me,

(12) That with his Name the Mothers ftill their Babes ?] This Defcription of the Terror, which Talbot ftruck into the French, feems to me to be ridicul'd by Beaumont and Fletcher in their Knight of the Burning Peftle, in which feveral other paffages of our Author are fneer'd

at :

We'll fear our Children with him

If they be never fo unruly, do but cry,
Ralph comes! Ralph comes ! to them;
And they'll be as quiet as Lambs.

For

For in my gallery thy picture hangs:

But now the fubftance fhall endure the like,
And I will chain these legs and arms of thine,
That haft by tyranny these many years
Wafted our country, flain our citizens,
And fent our fons and husbands captivate.

Tal. Ha, ha, ha.

[moan.

Count. Laugheft thou, wretch? thy mirth fhall turn to
Tal. I laugh to fee your ladyfhip fo fond,

To think, that you have aught but Talbot's fhadow
Whereon to practise your severity.

Count. Why? art not thou the man?
Tal. I am, indeed.

Count. Then have I fubftance too.

Tal. No, no, I am but fhadow of my felf:
You are deceiv'd, my fubftance is not here;
For what you fee, is but the smallest part
And leaft proportion of humanity:

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

Your roof were not fufficient 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 fhew you prefently.

Winds his born; drums ftrike up; a peal of Ordnance. Enter
Soldiers.

How fay you, Madam? are you now perfuaded,
That Talbot is but shadow of himself?

These are his fubftance, finews, arms and ftrength,
With which he yoaketh your rebellious necks;
Razeth your cities, and fubverts your towns;
And in a moment makes them defolate.

Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abufe;
I find, thou art no lefs than fame hath bruited,
And more than may be gather'd by thy fhape.
Let my prefumption not provoke thy wrath;
For, I am forry, that with reverence

I did not entertain thee as thou art.

Tal.

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

The outward compofition of his body.

What you have done, hath not offended me:
Nor other fatisfaction do I crave,

But only with your patience that we may
Tafte of your wine, and fee what cates you have ;
For foldiers ftomachs always ferve them well.

Count. With all my heart, and think me honoured
To feast fo great a warrior in my house. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to London, in the Temple

garden.

Enter Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, Somerset, Suffolk, and others.

Plan.

G

Reat lords and gentlemen, what means this filence?

Dare no man answer in a case of truth?

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

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

Suf. Faith, I have been a truant in the law;

I 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 horfes, which doth bear him best;
Between two girls, which hath the merrieft eye;
I have, perhaps, fome fhallow fpirit of judgment:
But in these nice fharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wifer than a daw.

Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance.
The truth appears fo naked on my fide,
That any pur-blind eye may find it out.

Som. And on my fide it is fo well apparell'd, So clear, fo fhining, and fo evident,

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

Plan. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and fo loth to speak, In dumb fignificants proclaim your thoughts:

Let him, that is a true-born gentleman,
And ftands upon the honour of his birth,
If he fuppofe that I have pleaded truth,
From off this briar pluck a white rofe with me.

Sum. Let him that is no coward, and no flatterer,

But dare maintain the party of the truth,
Pluck a red rofe from off this thorn with me.

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

I pluck this white rofe with Plantagenet.

Suf. I pluck this red rofe with young Somerset, And say withal, I think, he held the right.

Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more,

'Till you conclude, that he, upon whose fide

The feweft rofes are crop'd from the tree,

Shall yield the other in the right opinion.

Som. Good mafter Vernon, it is well objected;
If I have feweft, I fubfcribe in filence.
Plan. And I.

Ver. Then for the truth and plainnefs of the cafe,
I pluck this pale and maiden bloffom here,
Giving my verdict on the white rose side.

Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off,
Left, bleeding, you do paint the white rofe red;
And fall on my fide fo against your will.

Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed,
Opinion fhall be furgeon to my hurt;
And keep me on the fide, where still I am.
Som. Well, well, come on; who else?
Lawyer. Unless my study and my books be false,
The argument, you held, was wrong in you;

[To Somerset.

In fign whereof I pluck a white rose too.
Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argument?

Som.