Shakespeare's First Folio Part 350

Come hither Captaine, you perceiue my minde.

Whispers.

Capt. I doe my Lord, and meane accordingly.

Exeunt.

Enter Countesse.

Count. Porter, remember what I gaue in charge, And when you haue done so, bring the Keyes to me

Port. Madame, I will.

Enter.

Count. The Plot is layd, if all things fall out right, I shall as famous be by this exploit, As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus death.

Great is the rumour of this dreadfull Knight, And his atchieuements of no lesse account: Faine would mine eyes be witnesse with mine eares, To giue their censure of these rare reports.

Enter Messenger and Talbot.

Mess. Madame, according as your Ladys.h.i.+p desir'd, By Message crau'd, so is Lord Talbot come

Count. And he is welcome: what? is this the man?

Mess. Madame, it is

Count. 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 haue seene some Hercules, A second Hector, for his grim aspect, And large proportion of his strong knit Limbes.

Alas, this is a Child, a silly Dwarfe: It cannot be, this weake and writhled shrimpe Should strike such terror to his Enemies

Talb. Madame, I haue beene bold to trouble you: But since your Ladys.h.i.+p is not at leysure, Ile sort some other time to visit you

Count. What meanes he now?

Goe aske him, whither he goes?

Mess. Stay my Lord Talbot, for my Lady craues, To know the cause of your abrupt departure?

Talb. Marry, for that shee's in a wrong beleefe, I goe to certifie her Talbot's here.

Enter Porter with Keyes.

Count. If thou be he, then art thou Prisoner

Talb. Prisoner? to whom?

Count. To me, blood-thirstie Lord: And for that cause I trayn'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 chayne these Legges and Armes of thine, That hast by Tyrannie these many yeeres Wasted our Countrey, slaine our Citizens, And sent our Sonnes and Husbands captiuate

Talb. Ha, ha, ha

Count. Laughest thou Wretch?

Thy mirth shall turne to moane

Talb. I laugh to see your Ladys.h.i.+p so fond, To thinke, that you haue ought but Talbots shadow, Whereon to practise your seueritie

Count. Why? art not thou the man?

Talb. I am indeede

Count. Then haue I substance too

Talb. No, no, I am but shadow of my selfe: You are deceiu'd, my substance is not here; For what you see, is but the smallest part, And least proportion of Humanitie: I tell you Madame, were the whole Frame here, It is of such a s.p.a.cious loftie pitch, Your Roofe were not sufficient to contayn't

Count. This is a Riddling Merchant for the nonce, He will be here, and yet he is not here: How can these contrarieties agree?

Talb. That will I shew you presently.

Winds his Horne, Drummes strike vp, a Peale of Ordenance: Enter Souldiors.

How say you Madame? are you now perswaded, That Talbot is but shadow of himselfe?

These are his substance, sinewes, armes, and strength, With which he yoaketh your rebellious Neckes, Razeth your Cities, and subuerts your Townes, And in a moment makes them desolate

Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse, I finde thou art no lesse then Fame hath bruited, And more then may be gathered by thy shape.

Let my presumption not prouoke thy wrath, For I am sorry, that with reuerence I did not entertaine thee as thou art

Talb. Be not dismay'd, faire Lady, nor misconster The minde of Talbot, as you did mistake The outward composition of his body.

What you haue done, hath not offended me: Nor other satisfaction doe I craue, But onely with your patience, that we may Taste of your Wine, and see what Cates you haue, For Souldiers stomacks alwayes serue them well

Count. With all my heart, and thinke me honored, To feast so great a Warrior in my House.

Exeunt.

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

Yorke. Great Lords and Gentlemen, What meanes this silence?

Dare no man answer in a Case of Truth?

Suff. Within the Temple Hall we were too lowd, The Garden here is more conuenient

York. Then say at once, if I maintain'd the Truth: Or else was wrangling Somerset in th' error?

Suff. Faith I haue beene a Truant in the Law, And neuer yet could frame my will to it, And therefore frame the Law vnto my will

Som. Iudge you, my Lord of Warwicke, then betweene vs

War. Between two Hawks, which flyes the higher pitch, Between two Dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, Between two Blades, which beares the better temper, Between two Horses, which doth beare him best, Between two Girles, which hath the merryest eye, I haue perhaps some shallow spirit of Iudgement: But in these nice sharpe Quillets of the Law, Good faith I am no wiser then a Daw

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

Som. And on my side it is so well apparrell'd, So cleare, so s.h.i.+ning, and so euident, That it will glimmer through a blind-mans eye

York. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and so loth to speake, In dumbe significants proclayme your thoughts: Let him that is a true-borne Gentleman, And stands vpon the honor of his birth, If he suppose that I haue pleaded truth, From off this Bryer pluck a white Rose with me

Som. Let him that is no Coward, nor no Flatterer, But dare maintaine the partie of the truth, Pluck a red Rose from off this Thorne with me

War. I loue no Colours: and without all colour Of base insinuating flatterie, I pluck this white Rose with Plantagenet