ACT II.]

Now, Salisbury! for thee, and for the right
Of English Henry, shall this night appear
How much in duty I am bound to both.

[The English scale the walls, crying St. George!
a Talbot! and all enter by the town.
SENT. [Within.] Arm, arm! the enemy doth
make assault!

The French leap over the walls in their shirts. Enter, several ways, the Bastard, ORLEANS, ALENÇON, REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready.

ALEN. How now, my lords! what, all unready so?

BAST. Unready? ay, and glad we 'scap'd so

friend?

At all times will you have my power alike?
Sleeping or waking, must I still prevail,
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?—
Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good,
This sudden mischief never could have fall'n.

CHAR. Duke of Alençon, this was your default,
That, being captain of the watch to-night,
Did look no better to that weighty charge.
ALEN. Had all your quarters been as safely
kept,

As that whereof I had the government,
We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd.

a Unready-] Undressed.

Then how or which way-] In a note on a passage of "Richard the Second," (see p. 464, Vol. I.) where this pleonasm Occurs, we expressed a suspicion that "or which way "was an uncancelled interlineation of the poet. We have since discovered How or which way," like "Many a time and oft," was evidently an admitted phrase of old. Thus, in "All's Well that Ends Well," Act IV. Sc. 3:-"I'll take the sacrament on 't,

our error.

But weakly guarded, where the breach was made.
And now there rests no other shift but this,-
To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd,
And lay new platforms to endamage them.
Alarum. Enter an English Soldier crying, a
Talbot a Talbot! They fly, leaving their
clothes behind.

SOLD. I'll be so bold to take what they have left.

The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword;
For I have loaden me with many spoils,
Using no other weapon but his name.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-Orleans. Within the Town. Enter TALBOT, Bedford, BURGUNDY, a Captain, and others.

BED. The day begins to break, and night is fled, Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.

[Retreat sounded.

TAL. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury, And here advance it in the market-place, The middle centre of this cursed town.Now have I paid my vow unto his soul; For every drop of blood was drawn from him, There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night. And, that hereafter ages may behold What ruin happen'd in revenge of him, Within their chiefest temple I'll erect A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd: Upon the which, that every one may read, Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans, The treacherous manner of his mournful death, And what a terror he had been to France. But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,

I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace,

His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc,
Nor any of his false confederates.

BED. 'Tis thought, lord Talbot, when the fight began,

Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds,
They did, amongst the troops of armed men,
Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field.

BUR. Myself (as far as I could well discern,
For smoke and dusky vapours of the night,)
Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin and his trull,
When arm in arm they both came swiftly running,
Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves,
That could not live asunder day or night.
After that things are set in order here,
We'll follow them with all the power we have.

Enter a Messenger.

MESS. All hail, my lords! Which of this princely train

ye

Call the warlike Talbot, for his acts
So much applauded through the realm of France?
TAL. Here is the Talbot; who would speak
with him?

MESS. The virtuous lady, countess of Auvergne,
With modesty admiring thy renown,
By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe
To visit her poor castle where she lies;
That she may boast, she hath beheld the man
Whose glory fills the world with loud report.

BUR. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see, our wars Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport, When ladies crave to be encounter'd with.You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit. 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 submission will attend on her.-
Will not your honours bear me company?
BED. No, truly; it is more than manners will:
And I have heard it said, unbidden guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone.

TAL. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy,
I mean to prove this lady's courtesy.—
Come hither, captain. [Whispers.]—You perceive
my mind.

CAPT. I do, my lord; and mean accordingly.

[Exeunt.

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,"

a Fond, That is, foolish.

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 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,
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 mis

construe

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 PLANTAGENnet, Vernon, and a 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.
Soм. 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-tied, and so loth 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 briar 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; 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,

a Colours;-] The word is employed equivocally for artifices, specious glosses, &c.

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?

This pale and angry rose,Will I for ever, and my faction, wear."

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 partaker Poole, and you yourself,
I'll note you in my book of memory,
To scourge you for this apprehension:b
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; For these, my friends, in spite of thee, shall wear. PLAN. And, by my soul, this pale and angry

[Exit. [house,

PLAN. How I am brav'd, and must perforce endure it!

*

WAR. This blot, that they object against your Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament, Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster: And if thou be not then created York, I will not live to be accounted Warwick. Mean time, in signal of my love to thee, Against proud Somerset and William Poole, Will I upon thy party wear this rose : And here I prophecy,-this brawl to-day Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden, Shall send, between the red rose and the white, A thousand souls to death and deadly night.

PLAN. Good master Vernon, I am bound to you, That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.

VER. In your behalf still will I wear the same. LAW. And so will I.

PLAN. Thanks, gentle sir.+ Come, let us four to dinner: I dare This quarrel will drink blood another day. [Exeunt.

say,

Even like a man new haled from the rack,
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment :
And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death,
Nestor-like, aged in an age of care,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. [spent,-
These eyes,-like lamps whose wasting oil is
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent:
Weak shoulders, overborne with burd'ning grief;
And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine
That droops his sapless branches to the ground:-
Yet are these feet whose strengthless stay is
numb,

Unable to support this lump of clay,
Swift-winged with desire to get a grave,
As witting I no other comfort have.-
But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come?
1 KEEP. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will

come:

We sent unto the Temple, to* his chamber;
And answer was return'd, that he will come.

MOR. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied.—
Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign,
(Before whose glory I was great in arms,)
This loathsome sequestration have I had;
And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd,
Depriv'd of honour and inheritance :
But now, the arbitrator of despairs,

Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries,
With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence:
I would his troubles likewise were expir'd,
That so he might recover what was lost.

Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET.

1 KEEP. My lord, your loving nephew now is [come?

come.

MOR. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he
PLAN. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd,
Your nephew, late-despised Richard, comes.
MOR. Direct mine arms, I may embrace his
neck,

And in his bosom spend my latter gasp:
O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks,
That I may kindly give one fainting kiss.—
And now declare, sweet stem from York's great
stock,

Why didst thou say-of late thou wert despis'd?
PLAN. First, lean thine aged back against mine