Henry VI, Part I

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 everyone may read,
Shall be engraved 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. Bedford

’Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began,
Roused 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.

Burgundy

Myself, as far as I could well discern
For smoke and dusky vapours of the night,
Am sure I scared 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. Messenger

All hail, my lords! which of this princely train
Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts
So much applauded through the realm of France?

Talbot Here is the Talbot: who would speak with him? Messenger

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.

Burgundy

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.

Talbot

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-ruled:
And therefore tell her I return great thanks,
And in submission will attend on her.
Will not your honours bear me company?

Bedford

No, truly; it is more than manners will:
And I have heard it said, unbidden guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone.

Talbot

Well then, alone, since there’s no remedy,
I mean to prove this lady’s courtesy.
Come hither, captain. Whispers. You perceive my mind?

Captain I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. Exeunt.

Scene III

Auvergne. The Countess’s castle.

	Enter the Countess and her Porter.
Countess	Porter, remember what I gave in charge; And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.
Porter	Madam, I will. Exit.
Countess	The plot is laid: 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 dreadful knight, And his achievements of no less account: Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, To give their censure of these rare reports.
	Enter Messenger and Talbot.
Messenger	Madam, According as your ladyship desired, By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come.
Countess	And he is welcome. What! is this the man?
Messenger	Madam, it is.
Countess	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 have seen some Hercules, A second Hector, for his grim aspect, And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf! It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp Should strike such terror to his enemies.
Talbot	Madam, I have been bold to trouble you; But since your ladyship is not at leisure, I’ll sort some other time to visit you.
Countess	What means he now? Go ask him whither he goes.
Messenger	Stay, my Lord Talbot; for my lady craves To know the cause of your abrupt departure.
Talbot	Marry, for that she’s in a wrong belief, I go to certify her Talbot’s here.
	Re-enter Porter with keys.
Countess	If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.
Talbot	Prisoner! to whom?
Countess	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.
Talbot	Ha, ha, ha!
Countess	Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn to moan.
Talbot	I laugh to see your ladyship so fond To think that you have aught but Talbot’s shadow Whereon to practise your severity.
Countess	Why, art not thou the man?
Talbot	I am indeed.
Countess	Then have I substance too.
Talbot	No, no, I am but shadow of myself: You are deceived, 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’t.
Countess	This is a riddling merchant for the nonce; He will be here, and yet he is not here: How can these contrarieties agree?
Talbot	That will I show you presently. Winds his horn. Drums strike up: a peal of ordnance. 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.
Countess	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.
Talbot	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; Nor 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.
Countess	With all my heart, and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house. Exeunt.

Scene IV

London. The Temple-garden.