Som. And on my side it is so well apparell'd, So clear, so shining, and so evident,

That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. Plan. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and so loath to speak,

In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts:
Let him, that is a trueborn gentleman,
And stands upon the honour of his birth,
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,
From off this briar pluck a white rose with me.
Som. Let him that is no coward,

flatterer,

nor ne

But dare maintain the party of the truth,
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.
War. I love no colours; and, without all

colour

Of base-insinuating flattery,

I pluck this white rose, with Plantagenet.
Suf. I pluck this red rose, with

merset;

young SoAnd say withal, I think he held the right. Ver. Stay, Lords, and Gentlemen; and pluck

no more,

Till you conclude that he, upon whose side. The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree, Shall yield the other in the right opinion.

Som. Good master Vernon, it is well objected; 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 in a bloody red.

Plan. Mean time, your chee's 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 same, to counterfeit our roses; And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. Plan. Hath not thy rose 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 hy throat.

Som. Away, away, good William De làPoole!

We grace the yeoman, by conversing with him. War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset;

His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence,
Third son to the third Edward King of England;
Spring crestless yeomen 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

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 from ancient gentry?
His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood;
And, till thou be restor'd, 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 So-
merset,

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 scourge you for this apprehension:

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 colours, for thy foes; For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall

wear.

Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry

rose

As cognizance of my blood-drinking háte,

Will I for ever, and my faction, wear;
Until it wither with me to my grave,
Or flourish to the height of my degree.
Suf. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy.

ambition!

And so farewell, until I meet thee next.

Som. Have with thee, Poole.

[Exit. Farewell,

ambitious Richard. [Exit. Plan. How I am brav'd, and must perforce

endure 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 Gloster :
And, if thou be not then created York,
I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Mean time, in signal of my love to thee,'
Against proud Somerset, and William Poole,
Will I upon thy party wear this rose:

And here I prophecy, 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.

VOL. X.

11

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,
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment:
And these grey locks, the poursuivants of death,
Nestor-like aged, in an age of care,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.

These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent,

Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent:
Weak shoulders, overborne with burd'ning grief;
And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine
That droops his sapless branches to the ground;
Yet are these feet whose strengthless stay is
numb,

Unable to support this lamp of clay,
Swift-winged with desire to get a grave,
As witting I no other comfort have.

But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? 1. Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my Lord, will

come:

We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber;
And answer was return'd, that he will come.
Mor. Enough; my soul shall then be satis-
fy'd.

Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign,
(Before whose glory I was great in arms,),