Whereon to practice your severity.
Count. Why, art not thou the man?
Tal.

Count. Then have I substance too.

I am indeed.

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?
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,
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.

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,

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 trueborn gentleman,

And stands upon the honour of his birth,
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,

From off this briar pluck a white rose with me.
Som. Let him that is no coward, nor no flat-

terer,

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.

Suf. 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,

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; 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 Somerset.

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,
Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.

Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.

Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. Plan. Proud Poole, I will; and scorn both him and thee.

Suf. 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 yeomen from so deep a root?

Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege, 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 exempt from ancient gentry?