It is of fuch a spacious 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 these contrarieties agree?

Tal. That will I fhow you presently.

Winds his horn, drums ftrike up, a peal of Ordnance:
Enter Soldiers.

How fay you, madam? are you now perfuaded
That Talbot is but shadow of himself?

These are his fubftance, finews, arms, and strength,
With which he yoketh your rebellious necks,
Razeth your cities, and fubverts your towns,
And in a moment makes them defolate.

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 forry, 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 compofition of his body.

What you have done hath not offended me:
Nor other fatisfaction do I crave,

But only with your patience that we may

Taste of your wine, and fee what cates you have;
For foldiers' ftomachs always serve them well.

Count. With all my heart, and think me honoured
To feast so great a warriour in my house.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE V.

Changes to London, in the Temple garden.

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

Plan.

G

REAT lords, and gentlemen, what means this filence?
Dare no man answer in a cafe 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:

And was not wrangling Somerset in th' errour?
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 between 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 merriest eye,
I have, perhaps, fome fhallow fpirit of judgment:
But in these nice fharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:
The truth appears fo naked on my fide,

That any purblind 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 through a blind man's eye.

Plan. Since you are tonguety'd, and fo loath to speak, In dumb fignificance proclaim your thoughts:

Let him that is a true-born gentleman,

And ftands upon the honour of his birth,

If

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, 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 bafe infinuating flattery,

I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet.

Suf. I pluck this red rofe with young Somerset; And fay withal, I think he held the right.

Ver. Stay, lords, and gentlemen, and pluck no more, you conclude that he, upon whose fide

Till

The feweft rofes are crop'd from the tree,

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 plainness of the cafe,
I pluck this pale and maiden bloffom here,
Giving my verdict on the white rose fide."

Som. Well, well, come on, who else?
Lawyer. Unless my study and my books be false,
The argument you held was wrong in you;
In fign whereof, I pluck a white rofe too.
Plan. Now, Somerfet, where is your argument?
Som. Here in my fcabbard; meditating that,
Shall die your white rofe to a bloody red."

[to Somerfet.

Plan. Now, by this maiden bloffom in my hand,
I fcorn thee and thy faction, peevish boy.

Suf. Turn not thy fcorns this way, Plantagenet.
Plan. Proud Pole, 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 Pole;
We grace the yeoman by converfing with him.

War. Now, by god's will, thou wrong'ft him, Somerset ;
His grandfather was Lionel duke of Clarence,
Third fon to the third Edward king of England:
Spring crestless yeomen from fo deep a root?

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 christendom.

Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge,
For treafon 'headed in our late king's days?
And by his treafon stand'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.
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 Pole, and you yourself,
I'll note you in my book of memory,
To fcourge you for this reprehenfion:
Look to it well; and fay, you are well warn'd.

'Tis not for fear, but anger, that thy cheeks
Blush for pure fhame to counterfeit our rofes;
And yet thy tongue will not confefs thy errour.
Plan. Hath not thy rofe a canker, Somerset ?
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 rofes, That fhall maintain what I have faid is true,

Where falfe Plantagenet dare not be seen.

Plan. Now, by this maiden ---

Som.

E 2

Som. Ah, thou fhalt find us ready for thee ftill;
And know us by these colours for thy foes:
For these my friends in spite of thee fhall wear.
Plan. And, by my foul, this pale and angry rose,
As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,
Will I for ever and my faction wear,

Until it wither with me to my grave,
Or flourish to the height of my degree.

Suf. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition: And fo farewel until I meet thee next.

[Exit.

Som. Have with thee, Pole: - farewel, ambitious Richard.

Plan. How I am brav'd, and must perforce endure it!
War. This blot that they object against your house,

Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament,

Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloucefter:
And, if thou be not then created York,

I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Mean time, in fignal of my love to thee,
Against proud Somerfet and William Pole,
Will I upon thy party wear this rose.

And here I prophefy; this brawl to-day,
Grown to this faction in the temple garden,
Shall fend between the red rose and the white
A thousand fouls to death and deadly night."

[Exit.

[Exeunt.

SCENE