And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall!
And as my duty springs, so perish they
That grudge one thought against your majesty!

Thy humble servant vows obedience
And humble service till the point of death.

Aside Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue,
Lest it be said 'Speak, sirrah, when you should;
Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?'
Else would I have a fling at Winchester.

And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul!
In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage
And like a hermit overpass'd thy days.
Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast;
And what I do imagine let that rest.
Keepers, convey him hence, and I myself
Will see his ...

O, uncle, would some part of my young years
Might but redeem the passage of your age!

Thy grave admonishments prevail with me:
But yet, methinks, my father's execution
Was nothing less than bloody tyranny.

Of which, my lord, your honour is the last.

Discover more at large what cause that was,
For I am ignorant and cannot guess.

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;
Among which terms he used his lavish tongue
And did upbraid me with my father's death ...

Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used,
Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes.

Thanks, gentle sir.
Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say
This quarrel will drink blood another day.

Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you,
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.

How I am braved and must perforce endure it!

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.

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 ...

He bears him on the place's privilege,
Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus.

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

Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand,
I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.

Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth;
Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.

Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?

Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our roses;
For pale they look with fear, as witnessing
The truth on our side.

Now, Somerset, where is your argument?

And I.

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.

Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:
The truth appears so naked on my side
That any purblind eye may find it out.

Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth;
Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error?

Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence?
Dare no man answer in a case of truth?