PLANTAGENET. Then say at once if I
maintain'd the truth;
Or else was wrangling Somerset in th' error?
SUFFOLK. 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.
SOMERSET. Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us.
WARWICK. 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 horses, which doth bear him best;
Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye
I have perhaps some
shallow spirit of judgment;
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.
PLANTAGENET. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:
The truth appears so naked on my side
That any purblind eye may find it out.
SOMERSET. 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.
PLANTAGENET. Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak,
In dumb significants
proclaim your thoughts.
Let him that is a true-born gentleman
And stands upon the honour of his birth,
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,
From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.
SOMERSET. Let him that is no
coward nor no flatterer,
But dare
maintain the party of the truth,
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.
WARWICK. I love no colours; and, without all colour
Of base insinuating flattery,
I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet.
SUFFOLK. I pluck this red rose with young Somerset,
And say
withal I think he held the right.
VERNON. 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.
SOMERSET. Good Master Vernon, it is well objected;
If I have fewest, I
subscribe in silence.
PLANTAGENET. And I.
VERNON. Then, for the truth and plainness of the case,
I pluck this pale and
maidenblossom here,
Giving my
verdict on the white rose side.
SOMERSET. 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.
VERNON. 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.
SOMERSET. Well, well, come on; who else?
LAWYER. [To Somerset] Unless my study and my books be
false,
The
argument you held was wrong in you;
In sign
whereof I pluck a white rose too.
PLANTAGENET. Now, Somerset, where is your
argument?
SOMERSET. Here in my scabbard, meditating that
Shall dye your white rose in a
bloody red.
PLANTAGENET. Meantime your cheeks do
counterfeit our
roses;
For pale they look with fear, as witnessing
The truth on our side.
SOMERSET. No, Plantagenet,
'Tis not for fear but anger that thy cheeks
Blush for pure shame to
counterfeit our roses,
And yet thy tongue will not
confess thy error.
PLANTAGENET. Hath not thy rose a
canker, Somerset?
SOMERSET. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?
PLANTAGENET. Ay, sharp and
piercing, to
maintain his truth;
Whiles thy consuming
canker eats his falsehood.
SOMERSET. 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.
PLANTAGENET. Now, by this
maidenblossom in my hand,
I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.
SUFFOLK. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.
PLANTAGENET. Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and
thee.
SUFFOLK. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat.
SOMERSET. Away, away, good William de la Pole!
We grace the
yeoman by conversing with him.
WARWICK. 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?
PLANTAGENET. He bears him on the place's privilege,
Or durst not for his craven heart say thus.
SOMERSET. 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.
PLANTAGENET. 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 ripened to my will.
For your partaker Pole, 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.
SOMERSET. 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.
PLANTAGENET. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose,
As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,
Will I for ever, and my
faction, wear,
Until it
wither with me to my grave,
Or
flourish to the
height of my degree.
SUFFOLK. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition!
And so
farewell until I meet thee next. Exit
SOMERSET. Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious
Richard. Exit
PLANTAGENET. How I am brav'd, and must perforce endure
it!
WARWICK. 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 Gloucester;
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 Pole,
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.
PLANTAGENET. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you
That you on my
behalf would pluck a flower.
VERNON. In your
behalf still will I wear the same.
LAWYER. And so will I.
PLANTAGENET. Thanks, gentle sir.
Come, let us four to dinner. I dare say
This quarrel will drink blood another day. Exeunt
SCENE 5.
The Tower of London
Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair, and GAOLERS
MORTIMER. 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 pursuivants 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 burdening grief,
And pithless arms, like to a
withered vine
That droops his sapless branches to the ground.
Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb,
Unable to support this lump 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?
FIRST KEEPER. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come.
We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber;
And answer was return'd that he will come.
MORTIMER. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied.
Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign,
Before whose glory I was great in arms,
This
loathsome sequestration have I had;
And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd,
Depriv'd of honour and inheritance.
But now the arbitrator of despairs,
Just Death, kind umpire of men's miseries,
With sweet enlargement doth
dismiss me hence.
I would his troubles
likewise were expir'd,
That so he might recover what was lost.
Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET
FIRST KEEPER. My lord, your
lovingnephew now is come.
MORTIMER. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?
PLANTAGENET. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd,
Your
nephew, late despised Richard, comes.
MORTIMER. Direct mine arms I may
embrace his neck
And in his bosom spend my latter gasp.
O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks,
That I may kindly give one fainting kiss.
And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock,
Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd?
PLANTAGENET. First, lean thine aged back against mine arm;
And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease.
This day, in
argument upon a case,
Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me;
Among which terms he us'd his
lavish tongue
And did upbraid me with my father's death;
Which obloquy set bars before my tongue,
Else with the like I had requited him.
Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake,
In honour of a true Plantagenet,
And for
alliance sake, declare the cause
My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head.
MORTIMER. That cause, fair
nephew, that imprison'd me
And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring youth
Within a
loathsomedungeon, there to pine,
Was cursed
instrument of his decease.
PLANTAGENET. Discover more at large what cause that was,
For I am
ignorant and cannot guess.
MORTIMER. I will, if that my fading
breath permit