VERNON.
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.
SOMERSET.
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.
VERNON.
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.
SOMERSET.
Well, well, come on, who else?
LAWYER.
Unless my study and my books be false,
[To Somerset.]
The argument you held was wrong in law;
In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too.
PLANTAGENET.
Now, Somerset, where is your argument?
SOMERSET.
Here in my scabbard, meditating that
Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.
PLANTAGENET.
Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our roses;
For pale they look with fear, as witnessing
The truth on our side.