And never yet could frame my will to it; And, therefore, frame the law unto my will. Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then, between us. War. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch, Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, Plan. Tut, tut! here is a mannerly forbearance: The truth appears so naked on my side, That any purblind eye may find it out. 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-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. War. I love no colours; and, without all colour I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. Suf. I pluck this red rose with young 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, Law. Unless my study and my books be false, Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? Plan. Mean time, your cheeks do counterfeit our roses; For pale they look with fear, as witnessing Som. Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ? 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 faction, 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. His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence, Plan, He braves2 him on the place's privilege, 1 fashion in folio. Theobald changed the word. 2 bears in f. e 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, Som. Ah! thou shalt find us ready for thee still, 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, I will not live to be accounted Warwick. 1a: in f. e. Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the same. 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, blind', brought in a Chair by two Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, Argue the end of Edward Mortimer. These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, Weak shoulders, overborne with burdening grief, Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, 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. [Exit Keeper. Mor. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied. Poor gentleman, his wrong doth equal mine. But now, the arbitrator of despairs, Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries, That so he might recover what was lost. 1 This word is not in f. e. 2 End. 3 Not in f. e. VOL. V.-4 Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and Keeper.' 1 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. Mor. Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck, O! tell me, when my lips do touch his cheek, And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock, Plan. 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; And for alliance' sake, declare the cause Mor. That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me, And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring youth Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, Was cursed instrument of his decease. Plan. Discover more at large what cause that was: For I am ignorant, and cannot guess. Mor. I will, if that my fading breath permit, Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne. I was the next by birth and parentage; 1 The words, "and keeper," are not in f. e. |