Great lords and gentlemen, 929what means this silence?

2.4.2930Dare no man answer in a case of truth?

Within the Temple hall we were too loud.

2.4.4932The garden here is more convenient.

Then say at once if I maintained the truth;

2.4.6934Or else was wrangling Somerset in th'error?

Faith. I have been a truant in the law,

2.4.8936And never yet could frame my will to it,

2.4.9937And therefore frame the law unto my will.

Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then 939between us.

Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch,

2.4.12941Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,

2.4.13942Between two blades, which bears the better temper,

2.4.14943Between two horses, which doth bear him best,

2.4.15944Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye,

2.4.16945I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgement;

2.4.17946But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,

2.4.18947Good faith, I am no wiser than a 'daw.

Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance.

2.4.20949The truth appears so naked on my side

2.4.21950That any purblind eye may find it out.

And on my side it is so well appareled,

2.4.23952So clear, so shining, and so evident,

2.4.24953That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye.

Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak,

2.4.26955In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts.

2.4.27956Let him that is a true-born gentleman

2.4.28957And stands upon the honor of his birth,

2.4.29958If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,

2.4.30959From off this briar pluck a white rose with me.

Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer,

2.4.32961But dare maintain the party of the truth,

2.4.33962Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.

I love no colors, and without all color

2.4.35964Of base insinuating flattery

2.4.36965I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet.

I pluck this red rose with young Somerset,

2.4.38967And say withal I think he held the right.

Stay lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more

2.4.40969Till you conclude that he upon whose side

2.4.41970The fewest roses are croppèd from the tree

2.4.42971Shall yield the other in the right opinion.

Good Master Vernon, it is well objected.

2.4.44973If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.

And I.

Then for the truth and plainness of the case

2.4.47976I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here,

2.4.48977Giving my verdict on the white rose' side.

Prick not your finger as you pluck it off,

2.4.50979Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red,

2.4.51980And fall on my side so against your will.

If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed,

2.4.53982Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt

2.4.54983And keep me on the side where still I am.

Well, well, come on. Who else?

Unless my study and my books be false,

2.4.57986The argument you held was wrong in you;

2.4.58987In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too.

Now Somerset, where is your argument?

Here in my scabbard, meditating that

2.4.61990Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.

Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our roses,

2.4.63992For pale they look with fear, as witnessing

2.4.64993The truth on our side.

No, Plantagenet,

2.4.66995'Tis not for fear, but anger, that thy cheeks

2.4.67996Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses,

2.4.68997And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.

Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?

Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?

Aye, sharp and piercing to maintain his truth,

2.4.721001Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.

Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses,

2.4.741003That shall maintain what I have said is true,

2.4.751004Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.

Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand,

2.4.771006I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.

Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.

Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and 1009thee.

I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat.

Away, away, good William de la Pole.

2.4.821012We grace the yeoman by conversing with him.

Now by God's will thou wrong'st him, Somerset.

2.4.841014His grandfather was Lionel, Duke of Clarence,

2.4.851015Third son to the third Edward, King of England.

2.4.861016Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root?

He bears him on the place's privilege,

2.4.881018Or durst not for his craven heart say thus.

By him that made me, I'll maintain my words

2.4.901020On any plot of ground in Christendom.

2.4.911021Was not thy father Richard, Earl of Cambridge,

2.4.921022For treason executed in our late king's days?

2.4.931023And by his treason stand'st not thou attainted,

2.4.941024Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry?

2.4.951025His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood,

2.4.961026And till thou be restored thou art a yeoman.

My father was attachèd, not attainted,

2.4.981028Condemned to die for treason, but no traitor;

2.4.991029And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset,

2.4.1001030Were growing time once ripened to my will.

2.4.1011031For your partaker Pole, and you yourself,

2.4.1021032I'll note you in my book of memory,

2.4.1031033To scourge you for this apprehension.

2.4.1041034Look to it well, and say you are well warned.

Ah, thou shalt find us ready for thee still:

2.4.1061036And know us by these colors for thy foes,

2.4.1071037For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall wear.

And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose,

2.4.1091039As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,

2.4.1101040Will I forever, and my faction, wear

2.4.1111041Until it wither with me to my grave,

2.4.1121042Or flourish to the height of my degree.

Go forward, and be choked with thy ambition.

2.4.1141044And so farewell until I meet thee next.

Have with thee Pole. Farewell ambitious 1046Richard.

How I am braved, and must perforce endure1048 it.

This blot that they object against your house

2.4.1181050Shall be wiped out in the next parliament,

2.4.1191051Called for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester.

2.4.1201052And if thou be not then created York,

2.4.1211053I will not live to be accounted Warwick.

2.4.1221054Meantime, in signal of my love to thee,

2.4.1231055Against proud Somerset and William Pole,

2.4.1241056Will I upon thy party wear this rose.

2.4.1251057And here I prophecy: this brawl today,

2.4.1261058Grown to this faction in the Temple garden,

2.4.1271059Shall send, between the red rose and the white,

2.4.1281060A thousand souls to death and deadly night.

Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you,

2.4.1301062That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.

In your behalf still will I wear the same.

And so will I.

Thanks, gentle.

2.4.1341066Come, let us four to Dinner. I dare say

2.4.1351067This quarrel will drink blood another day.