Paris. A room in the palace.
(King Henry the Sixth; Duke of Gloucester; Bishop of Winchester; Duke of York; Earl of Suffolk; Duke of Somerset; Earl Warwick; Duke of Exeter; Vernon; Basset; Talbot’s Soldiers; Lord Talbot)
Talbot pays his duties to the King, who as a reward for his valor and successes creates him Earl of Shrewsbury. Vernon and Basset, wearing a white and a red rose respectively, quarrel over their difference in opinion. (45 lines)
Enter the King, Gloucester, Winchester, Richard Plantagenet, now Duke of York, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Exeter, Vernon, Basset, and others. To them, with his Soldiers, Talbot.
My gracious prince, and honorable peers,
Hearing of your arrival in this realm,
I have a while given truce unto my wars,
To do my duty to my sovereign;
In sign whereof, this arm, that hath reclaim’d
To your obedience fifty fortresses,
Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength,
Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem,
Lets fall his sword before your Highness’ feet,
And with submissive loyalty of heart
Ascribes the glory of his conquest got
First to my God and next unto your Grace.
Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester,
That hath so long been resident in France?
Yes, if it please your Majesty, my liege.
Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord!
When I was young (as yet I am not old),
I do remember how my father said
A stouter champion never handled sword.
Long since we were resolved of your truth,
Your faithful service, and your toil in war;
Yet never have you tasted our reward,
Or been reguerdon’d with so much as thanks,
Because till now we never saw your face.
Therefore stand up, and for these good deserts
We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury,
And in our coronation take your place.
Exeunt. Manent Vernon and Basset.
Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea,
Disgracing of these colors that I wear
In honor of my noble Lord of York,
Dar’st thou maintain the former words thou spak’st?
Yes, sir, as well as you dare patronage
The envious barking of your saucy tongue
Against my lord the Duke of Somerset.
Sirrah, thy lord I honor as he is.
Why, what is he? As good a man as York.
Hark ye; not so; in witness, take ye that.
Villain, thou knowest the law of arms is such
That whoso draws a sword, ’tis present death,
Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood.
But I’ll unto his Majesty, and crave
I may have liberty to venge this wrong,
When thou shalt see I’ll meet thee to thy cost.
Well, miscreant, I’ll be there as soon as you,
And after meet you, sooner than you would.