島

Som. Good master Vernon, it is well objected: 1 If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.

Plan. And I.

Ver. Then, for the truth and plainness of the

case,

I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here,

Giving my verdict on the white rose side.

Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off; Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red, And fall on my side so against your will. Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, And keep me on the side where still I am. Som. Well, well, come on. Who else? Law. Unless my study and my books be false, The argument you held was wrong in you;

[to Somerset. In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too.

Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? Som. Here, in my scabbard; meditating that,

Shall die your white rose in a bloody red.

Plan. Meantime, your cheeks do counterfeit our

roses;

For pale they look with fear, as witnessing

The truth on our side.

Som.

No, Plantagenet,

'Tis not for fear; but anger,—that thy cheeks Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses;

1 Justly proposed.

And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.
Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ?
Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?
Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his
truth;

Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.
Som. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding

roses,

That shall maintain what I have said is true,
Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.

Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.

Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. Plan. Proud Poole, I will; and scorn both him and thee.

Suf. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. Som. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole ! We grace the yeoman by conversing with him. War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset ;

1

His grandfather was Lionel duke of Clarence,
Third son to the third Edward king of England.
Spring crestless yeomen 1 from so deep a root?
Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege,
Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus.
Som. By him that made me, I'll maintain my
words

i. e. those who have no right to bear a coat of arms. 2 The Temple, being a religious house, was a sanctuary.

On any plot of ground in Christendom.
Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge,
For treason executed in our late king's days;
And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted,
Corrupted, and exempt 1 from ancient gentry?
His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood;
And, till thou be restored, thou art a yeoman.

Plan. My father was attached, not attainted;
Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor;
And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset,
Were growing time once ripen'd to my will.
For your partaker 2 Poole, and you yourself,
I'll note you in my book of memory,
To scourge you for this apprehension.3

Look to it well; and say you are well warn'd.
Som. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still :
And know us, by these colors, for thy foes;
For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall wear.
Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose,
As cognisance of my blood-drinking hate,

Will I for ever, and my faction wear;
Until it wither with me to my grave,

Or florish to the height of my degree.

Suf. Go forward, and be choked with thy ambi

tion!

And so farewell, until I meet thee next.

[Exit. Som. Have with thee, Poole.-Farewell, ambitious

Richard.

[Exit.

Plan. How I am braved, and must perforce en

dure it!

War. This blot, that they object against your

house,

Shall be wiped out in the next parliament,

Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster;
And, if thou be not then created York,
I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Meantime, in signal of my love to thee,
Against proud Somerset and William Poole,
Will I upon thy party wear this rose :
And here I prophesy ;-This brawl to-day
Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden,
Shall send, between the red rose and the white,
A thousand souls to death and deadly night.
Plan. Good master Vernon, I am bound to you,
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.
Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the same.
Law. And so will I.

Plan. Thanks, gentle sir.

Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say,

This quarrel will drink blood another day. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The same. A room in the Tower.

Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair by TWO KEEPERs.

Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age,

Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.

Even like a man new haled from the rack,