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. Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. roses, That shall maintain what I have said is true, 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, 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. Plan. My father was attached, not attainted; Look to it well; and say you are well warn'd. Will I for ever, and my faction wear; 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; 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, |