Bastard. And doth beget new Courage in our Breasts
Alans. Pucell hath brauely play'd her part in this, And doth deserue a Coronet of Gold
Charles. Now let vs on, my Lords, And ioyne our Powers, And seeke how we may preiudice the Foe.
Enter the King, Gloucester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset, Warwicke, Exeter: To them, with his Souldiors, Talbot.
Talb. My gracious Prince, and honorable Peeres, Hearing of your arriuall in this Realme, I haue a while giuen Truce vnto my Warres, To doe my dutie to my Soueraigne. In signe whereof, this Arme, that hath reclaym'd To your obedience, fiftie Fortresses, Twelue Cities, and seuen walled Townes of strength, Beside fiue hundred Prisoners of esteeme; Lets fall his Sword before your Highnesse feet: And with submissiue loyaltie of heart Ascribes the Glory of his Conquest got, First to my God, and next vnto your Grace
King. Is this the Lord Talbot, Vnckle Gloucester, That hath so long beene resident in France? Glost. Yes, if it please your Maiestie, my Liege
King. Welcome braue Captaine, and victorious Lord. When I was young (as yet I am not old) I doe remember how my Father said, A stouter Champion neuer handled Sword. Long since we were resolued of your truth, Your faithfull seruice, and your toyle in Warre: Yet neuer haue you tasted our Reward, Or beene reguerdon'd with so much as Thanks, Because till now, we neuer saw your face. Therefore stand vp, and for these good deserts, We here create you Earle of Shrewsbury, And in our Coronation take your place.
Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.
Manet Vernon and Basset.
Vern. Now Sir, to you that were so hot at Sea, Disgracing of these Colours that I weare, In honor of my Noble Lord of Yorke Dar'st thou maintaine the former words thou spak'st? Bass. Yes Sir, as well as you dare patronage The enuious barking of your sawcie Tongue, Against my Lord the Duke of Somerset
Vern. Sirrha, thy Lord I honour as he is
Bass. Why, what is he? as good a man as Yorke
Vern. Hearke ye: not so: in witnesse take ye that.
Bass. Villaine, thou knowest The Law of Armes is such, That who so drawes a Sword, 'tis present death, Or else this Blow should broach thy dearest Bloud. But Ile vnto his Maiestie, and craue, I may haue libertie to venge this Wrong, When thou shalt see, Ile meet thee to thy cost
Vern. Well miscreant, Ile be there as soone as you, And after meete you, sooner then you would.