MESSENGER.
All hail, my lords! Which of this princely train
Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts
So much applauded through the realm of France?
TALBOT.
Here is the Talbot. Who would speak with him?
MESSENGER.
The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne,
With modesty admiring thy renown,
By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe
To visit her poor castle where she lies,
That she may boast she hath beheld the man
Whose glory fills the world with loud report.
BURGUNDY.
Is it even so? Nay, then I see our wars
Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport,
When ladies crave to be encounter’d with.
You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.
TALBOT.
Ne’er trust me then; for when a world of men
Could not prevail with all their oratory,
Yet hath a woman’s kindness over-ruled.
And therefore tell her I return great thanks,
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.]