SCENE 3. _The Countess's castle

_Enter the Countess and her porter_

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

_Porter._ Madam, I will. (_Exit._)

_Countess._ 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 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 of these rare reports.

_Enter Messenger and Talbot_

_Messenger._ Madam, According as your ladyship desir'd, By message crav'd, so is Lord Talbot come.

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

_Mess._ Madam, it is.

_Countess._ 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 his strong-knit limbs. Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf! It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp Should strike such terror to his enemies.

_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. (_Going._)

_Countess._ 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.

_Reenter Porter with keys_

_Countess._ If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.

_Tal._ Prisoner! To whom!

_Countess._ 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.

_Tal._ Ha, ha, ha!

_Countess._ Laughest thou, wretch? Thy mirth shall turn to moan.

_Tal._ I laugh to see your ladyship so fond To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow Whereon to practice your severity.

_Countess._ Why, art not thou the man?

_Tal._ I am indeed.

_Countess._ Then have I substance too.

_Tal._ No, no, I am but shadow of myself. 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't.

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

_Tal._ That will I show you presently.

(_Winds his horn. Drums strike up: a peal of ordnance. The gates are 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 you desolate.

_Countess._ Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse. I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited And more than may be gathered by the 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; Nor other satisfaction do I crave, But only with your patience, that we may Taste of your wine and see what cates you have; For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.

_Countess._ With all my heart, and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house. (_Exeunt._)

Except for a few lines of rhetoric, could the account in Scene 3 be shortened? The Countess awaits Talbot; he comes; she reviles him in a few lines; he turns to go; she declares him a prisoner; he laughs at her; and as she stands amazed, calls in his forces brought in secret to the castle. When Talbot invites himself and his men to feast at her expense, the Countess immediately agrees. Reading the scene, one recalls the words of Dumas fils: "Any one can relate a dramatic situation: the art lies in preparing it, getting it accepted, making it plausible, especially in untying the knot."[27] Here Shakespeare does not untie the knot; the Countess merely yields. What she feels, what happened thereafter,--all these are omitted. It is merely the situation which counts. Before Talbot comes in, the scene could easily be made to reveal much more of the character of the Countess. When he does enter, the play of wits between them, even as it disclosed character, might provide interesting dramatic conflict. Surely the moment when the Countess thinks Talbot trapped and he coolly jeers at her, is worth more development. Here it is treated so quickly that the surprise in the entrance of the soldiers hardly gets its full effect. All this is the work of a tyro, even if he be Shakespeare.

In _Richard II_, there is a scene, not as long as that just quoted, in which the central situation might seem to many people less dramatic than that of Talbot and the Countess, yet note to what a clear and convincing conclusion Shakespeare brings it, how plausible he makes the scene, how thoroughly he prepares it for the largest emotional effect by entering thoroughly into the characters involved.

_Enter Aumerle_

_Duchess._ Here comes my son Aumerle.

_York._ Aumerle that was; But that is lost for being Richard's friend, And, madam, you must call him Rutland now. I am in Parliament pledge for his truth And lasting fealty to the new made king.

_Duch._ Welcome, my son. Who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new come spring?

_Aum._ Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not God knows I had as lief be none as one.

_York._ Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. What news from Oxford? Do these jousts and triumphs hold?

_Aum._ For aught I know, my lord, they do.

_York._ You will be there, I know.

_Aum._ If God prevent not, I purpose so.

_York._ What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom? Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the writing.

_Aum._ My lord, 'tis nothing.

_York._ No matter, then, who see it. I will be satisfied: let me see the writing.

_Aum._ I do beseech your grace to pardon me. It is a matter of small consequence, Which for some reasons I would not have seen.

_York._ Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. I fear, I fear,--

_Duch._ What should you fear? 'Tis nothing but some hand, which he has ent'red into For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day.

_York._ Bound to himself! What doth he with a bond That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. Boy, let me see the writing.

_Aum._ I do beseech you, pardon me. I may not show it.

_York._ I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. (_He plucks it out of his bosom and reads it._) Treason! foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave!

_Duch._ What is the matter, my lord?

_York._ Ho! who is within there?

_Enter a Servant_

Saddle my horse. God for his mercy, what treachery is here!

_Duch._ Why, what is it, my lord?

_York._ Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse. (_Exit Servant._) Now, by mine honour, by my life, by my troth, I will appeach the villain.

_Duch._ What is the matter?

_York._ Peace, foolish woman.

_Duch._ I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle?

_Aum._ Good mother, have content; it is no more Than my poor life must answer.

_Duch._ Thy life answer!

_York._ Bring me my boots; I will unto the King.

_Reenter Servant with boots_

_Duch._ Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amaz'd. --Hence villain! never more come in my sight.

_York._ Give me my boots, I say.

_Duch._ Why, York, what wilt thou do? Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? Have we more sons? Or are we like to have? Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, And rob me of a happy mother's name? Is he not like thee? Is he not thine own?

_York._ Thou fond mad woman. Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, And interchangeably set down their hands, To kill the King at Oxford.

_Duch._ He shall be none; We'll keep him here; then what is that to him?

_York._ Away, fond woman! Were he twenty times my son, I would appeach him.

_Duch._ Hadst thou groan'd for him As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect That I have been disloyal to thy bed, And that he is a bastard, not thy son. Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind. He is as like thee as a man may be, Not like to me or any of my kin, And yet I love him.

_York._ Make way, unruly woman! (_Exit._)

_Duch._ After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse; Spur post and get before him to the King, And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. I'll not be long behind; though I be old, I doubt not but to ride as fast as York. And never will I rise up from the ground Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone! (_Exeunt._)

So far as the situation is concerned we might go directly from York's "fealty to the new made King" to his "What seal is that?" omitting some ten lines. We should lose, however, the deft touches which make the discovery all the more dramatic,--the words of York which show that he has no idea that his son is really involved in any disloyalty; the affectionate effort of the mother to draw the talk from unpleasant subjects; and the distrait mood of Aumerle. Again, the discovery of the contents of the seal might be made at once, but the fifteen intervening lines before York cries "Treason! foul treason!" increase our suspense by their clear presentation of the emotions of father, mother, and son. Once more the situation is held when York does not declare at once the nature of the treason and the frantic mother demands again and again the contents of the paper before Aumerle says bitterly, and in perfect character with his first speeches of the scene,

"it is no more Than my poor life must answer."

Still again we should have the necessary action of the scene perfectly if York, as soon as he has his boots, flung out of the room, to be followed immediately by the Duchess, crying that she will follow him to the King and ask the boy's pardon. However, had Shakespeare's treatment here been that he used in the scene of Talbot and the Countess we should have lacked the perfect portrayal of the mother who loses all sense of right and wrong in fear that her loved child may die. Finally, do we not gain greatly by the characterization of the Duchess in the last lines of the scene? Five times, then, Shakespeare, by entering into his characters, "holds the situation."

The second act of _The Magistrate_,[28] by Sir Arthur Pinero, is in central situation broadly this. Cis Farringdon, represented by his mother to his stepfather, Mr. Posket, as fourteen, because she does not like to admit her own age, is really nineteen and precocious at that. He has brought Mr. Posket to one of his haunts, a supper room in the Hotel des Princes, Meek Street, London, where they are to sup together. As Mr. Posket is a police justice, he has been induced to figure for the evening as "Skinner of the stock exchange." Shortly after the arrival of the two comes word that a frequenter of the restaurant twenty years ago, now returned to London, wants to sup in their chosen room for the sake of old times. Therefore Mr. Posket and Cis are put into an adjoining room. Colonel Lukyn, the returned stranger, and a friend, Captain Vale, enter. Just as they are ordering supper, a note comes to the effect that Mrs. Posket, with a woman friend, is below, begging to speak with her old acquaintance, Colonel Lukyn. As Mrs. Posket asks a private interview, Captain Vale is put out on the balcony. With Mrs. Posket comes her sister Charlotte. We have already learned from Vale that he is deeply depressed because he thinks Charlotte no longer cares for him. Mrs. Posket has come to beg Colonel Lukyn, who knew her before she became a widow, not to reveal the truth about her age.

Watch now the permutations and combinations the author develops from this general situation. Cis is hardly in the room before Isadore presents his bill for past meals. Cis sees the chance, by borrowing from his stepfather, to settle a long postponed account. Three figures, moved in turn by shrewdness, trickiness, and gullibility, stir us to amusement, giving us Situation I. Even as the bill is paid, Cis asks Isadore to show Mr. Skinner the trick of "putting the silver to bed." Three people amused or interested by a trick, amuse us--Situation II. With the coming of the note from Alexander Lukyn, and the assignment of the room adjoining to Cis and Mr. Skinner-Posket, there is a hint of future complication which amuses us--Situation III. Lukyn and Vale entering, the former sentimental over his memories of the place, and the latter comically depressed over what he thinks to be the faithlessness of Charlotte Verrinder, give us Situation IV. The note saying Mrs. Posket is below with a friend, asking a private interview, produces Situation V, for it amuses us to think what may happen with Mr. Posket and Cis just on the other side of the door. Placing Vale on the balcony leads to Situation VI, for he goes with amusing regret for the delayed supper.

Up to this point the situations may be declared parts of the main situation, which must now itself be developed. Just after Blond, the proprietor, ushers in the ladies, the pattering of rain outside is heard.

_Lukyn._ Good gracious, Blond! What's that?

_Blond._ The rain outside. It is cats and dogs.

_Lukyn._ (_Horrified._) By George, is it? (_To himself, looking towards window._) Poor devil! (_To Blond._) There isn't any method of getting off that balcony is there?

_Blond._ No--unless by getting on to it.

_Lukyn._ What do you mean?

_Blond._ It is not at all safe. Don't use it.

(_Lukyn stands horror-stricken. Blond goes out. Heavy rain is heard._)--Situation VII.

As Mrs. Posket reveals to Lukyn the complications in which her lie is involving her, voices from the next room, not clearly distinguished by those on the stage, but known to us as the voices of Cis and Mr. Skinner-Posket, are heard--Situation VIII. Just when Lukyn is straining every nerve to get the ladies away so that he may release Vale, Charlotte, overwhelmed by hunger, invites herself to supper--Situation IX. As the two women eat, Lukyn sits in anxious despair, at times forgetful of his guests. This brings Situation X, when Vale reaches out from behind the curtains of the balcony and passes to the absent-minded Lukyn from the buffet the dishes Charlotte desires. When Charlotte, turning suddenly, sees the outstretched arm, we have Situation XI. When Vale reenters, thoroughly irritated and quarrels with Lukyn, we have Situation XII. The reunion of Charlotte and Vale makes the thirteenth. That is, if six initial situations produced the situation when all the characters were upon the stage, Sir Arthur has developed seven new situations from the sixth. Now by adding a fresh complication through some new figures, he develops six more situations.

Just as Lukyn, Mrs. Posket, Charlotte, and Vale are about to leave amicably, Blond rushes in to say that the police are below because the prescribed hour for closing has passed. The names and addresses of all persons found on the premises will be taken--Situation XIV. Lukyn, Vale, Mrs. Posket and Charlotte hide themselves in different parts of the room, putting out the lights. Situation XV is the entrance in the darkness of Blond leading Cis and Mr. Skinner-Posket, in order that the other room may be searched safely. At last, the room where all are hidden is examined by the police. All try to hold their breath, but in vain. The police detect some one breathing--Situation XVI. In the resulting confusion, Cis escapes, dragging his stepfather with him--Situation XVII. The other four when caught, foolishly give false names. Lukyn, thoroughly irritated by the officers, flings one of them aside and attempts to force his way out, when he and his party are promptly arrested for assault--Situation XVIII.

_Lukyn._ You'll dare to lock us up all night?

_Messiter._ It's one o'clock now, Colonel--you'll come on first thing in the morning.

_Lukyn._ Come on? At what court?

_Messiter._ Mulberry Street.

_Agatha Posket._ Ah! The Magistrate?

_Messiter._ Mr. Posket, Mum.

(_Agatha Posket sinks into a chair, Charlotte at her feet; Lukyn, overcome, falls on Vale's shoulders._)--Situation XIX.

Five situations of nineteen lead up to the sixth. Seven are developed from that sixth by means of four people. The new complication, the search of the restaurant by the police and the bringing into one room of all the figures, gives us six more situations. Certainly Sir Arthur knows how to "hold a situation."