Tal. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconstrue The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake The outward compofition of his body. What you have done, hath not offended me: Nor other fatisfaction do I crave,

But only (with your patience) that we may Taste of your wine, and fee that cates you have; For foldiers' ftomachs always ferve them well.

Count. With all my heart; and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my houfe. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. London. The Temple Garden. Enter the Earls of SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WAR WICK, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and another Lawyer.

Plant. Great lords, and gentlemen, what means this filence?

Dare no man answer in a cafe of truth?

Suf. Within the temple hall we were too loud; The garden here is more convenient.

Plant. Then fay at once, If Imaintain'd the truth; Or, elfe, was wrangling Somerset in the error? Suf. 'Faith, I have been a truant in the law;, And never yet could frame my will to it; And, therefore, frame the law unto my will. Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then be

tween us.

War. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch,

Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,
Between two blades, which bears the better temper,
Between two horfes, which doth bear him best,
Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye,
D 2
I have

I have, perhaps, fome fhallow fpirit of judgment;
But in thefe nice fharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

Plant. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:
The truth appears fo naked on my side,
That any purblind eye may find it out.

Sam. And on my fide it is fo well apparell'd, So clear, fo fhining, and fo evident,

That it fhall glimmer through a blind man's eye. Plant. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and so loth to speak,

In dumb fignificants proclaim your thoughts:
Let him, that is a true-born gentleman,
And ftands upon the honour of his birth,
If he fuppofe that I have pleaded truth,
From off this briar pluck a white rose with me.
Som. Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer,
But dare maintain the party of the truth,

Pluck a red rofe from off this thorn with me.
War. I love no colours; and, without all colour
Of base infinuating flattery,

I pluck this white rofe, with Plantagenet.

Suf. I pluck this red rofe, with young Somerfet; And fay withal, I think he held the right.

Ver. Stay, lords, and gentlemen; and pluck no

more,

'Till you conclude that he, upon whofe fide
The feweft roles are crop'd from the tree,
Shall yield the other in the right opinion.
Som. Good mafter Vernon, it is well objected;
If I have feweft, I fubscribe in filence.

Plant. And I.

Ver. Then, for the truth and plainnefs of the cafe, I pluck this pale and maiden bloffom here,

Giving my verdict on the white rose fide.

Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off; Left, bleeding, you do paint the white rofe red, And fall on my fide fo against your will.

Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, Opinion fhall be furgeon to my hurt, And keep me on the fide where still I am. Som. Well, well, come on: Who elfe? Lawyer. Unlefs, my ftudy and my books be falfe, The argument you held, was wrong in you;

[TO SOMERSET. In fign whereof, I pluck a white rose too. Plant. Now, Somerfet, where is your argument? Som. Here, in my scabbard; meditating that, Shall dye your white rofe to a bloody red. Plant. Mean time, your cheeks do counterfeit our rofes;

For pale they look with fear, as witneffing
The truth on our fide.

Som. No, Plantagenet,

Blush for pure fhame, to counterfeit our rofes; 'Tis not for fear; but anger-that thy cheeks And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.

Plant. Hath not thy rofe a canker, Somerset? Som. Hath not thy rofe a thorn, Plantagenet? Plant. Ay, fharp and piercing, to maintain his truth;

Whiles thy confuming canker eats his falfehood. Som. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding rofes,

That fhall maintain what I have faid is true,
Where falfe Plantagenet dare not be feen.
Plant. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand,
I fcorn thee and thy fashion, peevith boy.

Suf.

Suf. Turn not thy fcorns this way, Plantagenet. Plant. Proud Poole, I will; and fcorn 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 converfing with him. War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'ft him, Somerset ;

His grandfather was Lionel duke of Clarence, Third fon to the third Edward king of England; Spring crestless yeomen from fo deep a root?

Plant. He bears him on the place's privilege, Or durft not, for his craven heart, fay thus.

Sem. By him that made me, I'll maintain my On any plot of ground in Christendom: [words Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge, For treafon executed in our late king's days? And, by his treafon, ftandft thou not attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? His trefpafs yet lives guilty in thy blood; And, 'till thou be reftor'd, thou art a yeoman. Plant. My father was attached, not attainted; Condemn'd to die for treafon, 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 Poole, and you yourself, I'll note you in my book of memory, To fcourge you for this apprehension: Look to it well; and fay you are well warn'd. Som. Ay, thou fhalt find us for thee still: And know us, by these colours for thy foes; For these my friends, in fpite of thee fhall wear.

Plant. And, by my foul, this pale and angry rofe,

As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,

As

-ทะ Will I for ever, and my faction, wear; Until it wither with me to my grave, Or flourish to the height of my degree.

_t.

Suf. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy am

bition!

And fo farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit.
Som. Have with thee, Poole.-Farewell, ambitious

Richard.

[Exit.

Plant. How I am brav'd, and muft perforce en-
dure it!

War. This blot, that they object against your house,
Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament,
Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Glofter':
And, if thou be not then created York,
I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Mean time, in fignal of my love to thee,
Against proud Somerset, and William Poole,
Will I upon the party wear this rose:
And here I prophecy-This brawl to-day
Grown to this faction, in the Temple-Garden,
Shall fend between the red rofe and the white,
A thousand fouls to death and deadly night.

Plant. Good mafter Vernon, I am bound to you,
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.
Ver. In your behalf ftill will I wear the fame.
Law. And fo will I.

Plant. Thanks, gentle fir.

Come, let us four to dinner: I dare fay,
This quarrel will drink blood another day. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. A Room in the Tower.

Enter MORTIMER, brought in a Chair, and Failors.
Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age,

Let