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That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye.
Som. Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer,
War. I love no colours; and, without all colour
Somerset; And 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 ;
Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed,
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. Mean time, your cheeks do counterfeit our
Som. No, Plantagenet,
Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ?
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,
Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.
Som. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole! We grace the yeoman, by conversing with him.
War. Now, by God's will, thou wrongst him, Somerset;
His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence,
Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege,
Som. By him that made me, I'll maintain my words
Plan. My father was attached, not attainted;
Som. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still:
Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose,
Suf. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition! And so farewell, until I meet thee next.
Som. Have with thee, Poole.-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, Callid 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 hear 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,
Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the same.
Plan. Thanks, gentle sir.
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,
Nestor-like aged, in an age of care,
i 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 satisfied.
Enter Richard PLANTAGENET. i Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend? Is he come?
Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us’d, Your nephew, late-despised Richard, comes.