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. Mean time, 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 ;
And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.

Plan. Hath not thy rose a 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 blofsom 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; His grandfather was Lionel duke of Clarence, Third son to the third Edward king of England; Spring crestlefs 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 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 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 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.

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

And so farewell, until I meet thee next.

[Exit.

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,

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.

VILLE DE LYN

Grande Bibliothèque