Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  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 of Auvergne

  Porter, remember what I gave in charge;

  And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.

  Porter

  Madam, I will.

  Exit

  Countess of Auvergne

  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 rumor 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 of Auvergne

  And he is welcome. What! is this the man?

  Messenger

  Madam, it is.

  Countess of Auvergne

  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 of Auvergne

  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 of Auvergne

  If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.

  Talbot

  Prisoner! to whom?

  Countess of Auvergne

  To me, blood-thirsty lord;

  And for that cause I trained 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 of Auvergne

  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 of Auvergne

  Why, art not thou the man?

  Talbot

  I am indeed.

  Countess of Auvergne

  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 of Auvergne

  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 of Auvergne

  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 of Auvergne

  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

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence?

  Dare no man answer in a case of truth?

  Suffolk

  Within the Temple-hall we were too loud;

  The garden here is more convenient.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Then say at once if I maintain’d the truth;

  Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error?

  Suffolk

  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.

  Somerset

  Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us.

  Warwick

  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 judgement;

  But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,

  Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:

  The truth appears so naked on my side

  That any purblind eye may find it out.

  Somerset

  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.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak,

  In dumb si
gnificants 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 brier pluck a white rose with me.

  Somerset

  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.

  Warwick

  I love no colours, and without all colour

  Of base insinuating flattery

  I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet.

  Suffolk

  I pluck this red rose with young Somerset

  And say withal I think he held the right.

  Vernon

  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.

  Somerset

  Good Master Vernon, it is well objected:

  If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  And I.

  Vernon

  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.

  Somerset

  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.

  Vernon

  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.

  Somerset

  Well, well, come on: who else?

  Lawyer

  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.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Now, Somerset, where is your argument?

  Somerset

  Here in my scabbard, meditating that

  Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our roses;

  For pale they look with fear, as witnessing

  The truth on our side.

  Somerset

  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.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?

  Somerset

  Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth;

  Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.

  Somerset

  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.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand,

  I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.

  Suffolk

  Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and thee.

  Suffolk

  I’ll turn my part thereof into thy throat.

  Somerset

  Away, away, good William de la Pole!

  We grace the yeoman by conversing with him.

  Warwick

  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?

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  He bears him on the place’s privilege,

  Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus.

  Somerset

  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?

  His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood;

  And, till thou be restored, thou art a yeoman.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  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 scourge you for this apprehension:

  Look to it well and say you are well warn’d.

  Somerset

  Ah, 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.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  And, by my soul, 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.

  Suffolk

  Go forward and be choked with thy ambition!

  And so farewell until I meet thee next.

  Exit

  Somerset

  Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious Richard.

  Exit

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  How I am braved and must perforce endure it!

  Warwick

  This blot that they object against your house

  Shall be wiped out in the next parliament

  Call’d for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester;

  And if thou be not then created York,

  I will not live to be accounted Warwick.

  Meantime, in signal of my love to thee,

  Against proud Somerset and William Pole,

  Will I upon thy party wear this rose:

  And here I prophesy: 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.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you,

  That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.

  Vernon

  In your behalf still will I wear the same.

  Lawyer

  And so will I.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Thanks, gentle sir.

  Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say

  This quarrel will drink blood another day.

  Exeunt

  SCENE V. THE TOWER OF LONDON.

  Enter Mortimer, brought in a chair, and Gaolers

  Mortimer

  Kind keepers of my weak decaying age,

  Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.

  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.

  These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent,

  Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent;

  Weak shoulders, overborne with burthening 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?

  First Gaoler

  Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come:

  We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber;

  And answer was return’d that he will come.

  Mortimer

  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 obscured,

  Deprived 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 expired,

  That so he might recover what was lost.

  Enter Richard Plantagenet

  First Gaoler

  My lord, your loving nephew now is come.

  Mortimer

  Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used,

  Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes.

  Mortimer

  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 despised?

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  First, lean thine aged back against mine arm;

  And, in that ease, I’ll tell thee my disease.

  This day, in argument upon a case,

  Some words there grew ’twixt Somerset and me;

  Among which terms he used his lavish tongue

  And did upbraid me with my father’s death:

  Which obloquy set bars before my tongue,

  Else with the like I had requited him.

  Therefore, good uncle, for my father’s sake,

  In honour of a true Plantagenet

  And for alliance sake, declare the cause

  My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head.

  Mortimer

  That cause, fair nephew, that imprison’d me

  And hath detain’d me all my flowering youth

  Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine,

  Was cursed instrument of his decease.

  Richard

  Plantagenet

  Discover more at large what cause that was,

  For I am ignorant and cannot guess.

  Mortimer

  I will, if that my fading breath permit

  And death approach not ere my tale be done.