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 myself,
You are deceiv'd, my fubftance is not here;
For what you fee, is but the fmallest part
And leaft proportion of humanity.

I tell you, Madam, were the whole frame here,
It is of fuch a fpacious 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 thefe contrarieties agree?

Tal. That will I fhew you prefently.

Winds bis born; drums frike up; a peal of Ordnance.
Enter Soldiers.

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

Thefe 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. Be not difmay'd, fair lady; nor mifconftrue
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

But only with your patience that we may
Taste 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.

SCENE V.

[Exeunt,

Changes to London, in the Temple garden.

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

Plan.

Reat Lords and Gentlemen, what means this filence?

GR

Dare no man anfwer in a cafe 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; And was not 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 be

tween 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 spirit of judgment;
But in thefe nice fharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiler than a daw.

6 All the editions read, Or else was wrangling Somerfet

'th' errour?] Here is apparently a want of oppofition between the two questions. I

once read,

Or else was wrangling Somerfet i'th' right? But I have inferted Sir T. Hanmer's emendation.

Plan.

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 thro' 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,

7 From off this briar pluck a white rose with me. Som. 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 Somerfet, And fay, 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 fewest roses are crop'd from the tree,

7 From off this briar pluck a

white rofe with me, &c.] This is given as the original of the two badges of the houfe of York and Lancaster, whether truly or not, is no great matter. But the proverbial expreffion of Jaying a thing under the Rofe, I am perfuaded, came from thence. When the nation had ranged itfelf into two great factions, under the white and red Rofe, and were perpetually plotting and counterplotting against one another, then when a matter of fac

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 rofe fide.

Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off,
Left, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red;
And fall on my fide so 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 ftudy and my books be false, The argument, you held, was wrong in you;

[To Somerfet. In fign whereof I pluck a white rose too.

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

Shall dye your white rofe to a bloody red.

Plan. Mean time, your cheeks do counterfeit our
Roses;

For pale they look with fear, as witneffing

The truth on our fide.

Som. No, Plantagenet,

'Tis not for fear, but anger, that thy cheeks
Blush for pure fhame to counterfeit our Rofes
And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.
Plan. Hath not thy Rofe a canker, Somerfet?
Som. Hath not thy Rofe a thorn, Plantagenet?
Plan. Ay, fharp and piercing to maintain his truth;
Whiles thy confuming canker eats his falfhood.
Som. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding
Roses,

9 Well objected.] Properly thrown in our way, justly propofed.

That

That fhall maintain what I have faid is true,
Where falfe Plantagenet dare not be feen.
Plan. Now by this maiden bloffom in my hand,
I fcorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.

Suf. Turn not thy fcorns this way, Plantagenet.
Plan. Proud Pool, I will; and fcorn both him and
thee.

Suf. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat.
Som. Away, away, good William de la Pool!
We grace the Yeoman by converfing with him.
War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'ft him, So-
merset,

His grandfather was Lyonel Duke of Clarence,
Third fon to the third Edward King of England ;
Spring crestless Yeomen from fo deep a root?

3

Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege, Or durft not for his craven heart fay thus.

Som. By him that made me, I'll maintain my words On any plot of ground in Chriftendom.

Was not thy father, Richard, Earl of Cambridge,
For treafon headed in our late King's days?
And by his treason ftand'st not thou attainted,
*Corrupted and exempt from ancient
gentry
His trefpafs yet lives guilty in thy blood;
And, till thou be reftor'd, thou art a yeoman.

?