With all my heart, and think me honoured
To feast so great a warrior in my house.

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.

This is a riddling merchant for the nonce;
He will be here, and yet he is not here:
How can these contrarieties agree?

Then have I substance too.

Why, art not thou the man?

Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn to moan.

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 ...

If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.

What means he now? Go ask him whither he goes.

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 ...

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

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 ...

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