London. The Temple Garden. |
|
Enter the EARLS OF SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK; RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and a Lawyer. |
Plan. Great lords, and gentlemen, what means this silence? |
Dare no man answer in a case of truth? |
Suf. Within the Temple hall we were too loud; |
The garden here is more convenient. |
Plan. Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth, |
Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error? |
Suf. 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. |
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; |
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. |
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. |
Som. 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. |
War. I love no colours, and, without all colour |
Of base insinuating flattery |
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, |
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. [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. |
Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? |
Som. Here, in my scabbard; meditating that |
Shall dye 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, |
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 blossom in my hand, |
I scorn thee and thy faction, peevish boy. |
Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. |
Plan. Proud Pole, 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 Pole: |
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 crestless 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 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. |
Som. Ah, 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, Pole. 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 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. |
Plan. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you, |
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. |
Ver. In your behalf still would 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. |
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