truth on our side. 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. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset? Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet? Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth; Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. 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. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and thee. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. Away, away, good William de la Pole! We grace the yeoman by conversing with him. 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? He bears him on the place's privilege, Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus. 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 restored, thou art a yeoman. 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. 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. 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. Go forward and be choked with thy ambition! And so farewell until I meet thee next. Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious Richard. How I am braved and must perforce endure it! This blot that they object against your house Shall be wiped out in the next parliament Call'd