Count.
Porter, remember what I gave in charge;
And, when you have done so, bring the keys to me.

Port.
Madam, I will. [Exit.

Count.
The plot is laid: if all things fall out right,
I shall as famous be by this exploit,
As Scythian Thomyris 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^{4 note}
of these rare reports. Enter Messenger and Talbot.

Mess.
Madam,
According as your ladyship desir'd,
By message crav'd, so is lord Talbot come.

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

Mess.
Madam, it is.

Count.
Is this the scourge of France?
Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad,
That with his name the mothers still their babes^{5 note}

?
I see report is fabulous and false:
I thought, I should have seen some Hercules,
A second Hector, for his grim aspéct,
And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs.
Alas! this is a child, a silly dwarf:
It cannot be, this weak and writhled^{6 note}

Tal.
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.

Count.
What means he now?—Go ask him, whither he goes.

Mess.
Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady craves
To know the cause of your abrupt departure.

Tal.
Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,
I go to certify her, Talbot's here. Re-enter Porter, with Keys.

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^{7 note}

.

Tal.
Ha, ha, ha!

Count.
Laughest thou, wretch; thy mirth shall turn to moan.

Tal.
I laugh to see your ladyship so fond^{8 note}
,
To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow,
Whereon to practise your severity.

Count.
Why, art not thou the man?

Tal.
I am indeed.

Count.
Then have I substance too.

Tal.
No, no, I am but shadow of myself^{9 note}
:
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^{1 note}

Tal.
That will I show you presently^{2 note}
. 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^{3 note}

,
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
Tatse 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.

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