7

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 6 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 fatterer,
But dare maintain the party of the truth,
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.

War. I love no colours ; 8 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, Shail yield the other in the right opinion. 9

Som. Good master Vernon, it is well objected; 10 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 11 shall be surgeon to my hurt,
And keep me on the side where still I am.

Som. Well, well, come on: who else?

Law. 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. 12
Plan. Meantime, your cheeks do counterfeit our roses;

13
For pale they look with fear, as witnessing
The truth on our side.
Som.

No, Plantagenet,
'T is 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, 15
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, 16 peevish boy.

Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.
Plan. Proud Poole, 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-Poole: 17
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,

12) Eine Erwägung desjenigen Arguments, das in meiner Scheide steckt, d. h. meines

Schwertes, wird Eure weisse Rose blutig roth färben; oder mit dem Wortspiel von

to die und to dye: dies erwägend, wird Eure weisse Rose in blutigem Roth sterben. 13) our roses = die von mir und meinen Parteigenossen erkorenen weissen Rosen. 1) his vor truth wie vor falsehood geht auf das beiderseitige thy rose: das Recht der

einen, weissen Rose, und das Unrecht der andern, rothen Rose. 15) bleeding roses = die blutigrothen Rosen. 16) faction ist Theobald's Emendation für fashion der Fol.; sie empfiehlt sich durch

Suffolk's folgende Worte, der das faction auf sich bezieht, sowie durch Plantagenets spätere Wiederholung this pale and angry rose || Will I for ever and my faction wear.

fashion würde die Mode Somerset's, der die rothe Rose trägt, bedeuten. $7) Er nennt ihn höhnisch bei seinem simplen Familiennamen und fügt in geflissentlicher

Herablassung das Wort good, ein den Yeomen zukommendes Epitheton, hinzu.

20

Third son to the third Edward, king of England.
Spring crestless yeomen 18 from so deep a root ? 19

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 w
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 21 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, 22
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. 23
For your partaker 24 Poole, and you yourself,
I 'll note you in my book of memory,
To scourge you for this apprehension : 26
Look to it well, and say you are well warn'd.

Sam. Ay, 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
As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,

25

27

28

rose,

16) Die Yeomen, die, im Gegensatz zum hohen Adel, keinen Helmschmuck über dein

Wappen führen durften. 19) Das Königsgeschlecht reicht weit in die Vorzeit, in der es gleichsam mit tiefer Wur

Will I for ever, and my faction, wear,
Until it wither with me to my grave,
Or flourish to the height of my degree. 29

Suf. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition :
And so farewell, until I meet thee next.

[Exit. Som. Have with thee,

30 Poole.

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 31 out in the next parliament,
Callid for the truce of Winchester and Gloster;
And if 32 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 Poole,
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 will I wear the same.
Law. And so will I.

Plan. Thanks, gentle Sir. 33
Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say,
This quarrel will drink blood another day.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The Same. A Room in the Tower.
Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair by Two Keepers.
Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age,
Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.

des Hasses, der das Blut verzehrt und daher blass aussieht. So in Romeo and Juliet (A. 3, Sc. 5) thou look'st pale Dry sorrow drinks our blood. — Andere

fassen dagegen blood-drinking hate blutdürstiger Hass. 29) Die von ihm erwählte Rose soll entweder mit ihm selber dem Grabe zuwelken, oder

so hoch emporwachsen, wie er selbst steigt, wenn seine Erbansprüche an den Thron

sich verwirklichen. 30) Ich gehe mit, ich begleite Dich. 31) So verbessert die zweite Fol. das whipt der ersten. Das Parlament war einberufen,

um die Streitigkeiten zwischen Winchester und Gloster beizulegen, und wird in der

ersten Scene des dritten Acts vorgeführt. 32) And if, in der Schreibart der Fol. ist auch hier vielleicht wie an manchen andern

Stellen bei Sh. An if zu lesen. 33) Das in der ersten Fol. ausgefallene Sir ergänzt die zweite Fol.

5

Even like a man new haled from the rack,
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment;
And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death, 1
Nestor-like aged, in an age of care,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.
These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent,
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent: 2
Weak shoulders, overborne with burdening grief,
And pithless 3 arms,

like to a wither'd vine
That droops his sapless branches to the ground:
Yet are these feet, - whose strengthless stay is numb,
Unable to support this lump of clay, -
Swift-winged with desire to get a grave,
As witting

I no other comfort have.
But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come?

1 Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come: We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber, And answer was return'd that he will come.

Mor. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied. ---
Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign,
Before whose glory I was great in arms,
This loathsome sequestration have I had;
And even since then hath Richard been obscurid,
Depriv'd of honour and inheritance:
But now, the arbitrator

of despairs,
Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries,
With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence.
I would his troubles likewise were expir'd,
That so he might recover what was lost.

Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET.
1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now is come.