First part of King Henry Sixth,act ii,scene iv

RICHARD PLANTAGENET 

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 honor of his birth, If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. JOHN BEAUFORD, DUKE OF SOMERSET Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer, But dare maintain the party of the truth, Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. EARL OF WARWICK I love no colors; and without all color Of base insinuating flattery, I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. EARL OF SUFFOLK I pluck this red rose with young Somerset, And say withal, I think he held the right. VERNON 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 Shall yield the other in the right opinion. JOHN BEAUFORD, DUKE OF SOMERSET Good Master Vernon, it is well objected; If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence. RICHARD PLANTAGENET And I. 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. JOHN BEAUFORD, DUKE OF 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. JOHN BEAUFORD, DUKE OF SOMERSET Well, well, come on, who else? LAWYER Unless my study and my books be false, The argument you held was wrong in you; To Somerset. In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too. RICHARD PLANTAGENET Now, Somerset, where is your argument? JOHN BEAUFORD, DUKE OF SOMERSET Here in my scabbard, meditating that Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red. RICHARD PLANTAGENET Mean time your cheeks do counterfeit our roses; For pale they look with fear, as witnessing The truth on our side. JOHN BEAUFORD, DUKE OF SOMERSET 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. 

First part of King Henry Sixth,act ii,scene iv www.digitalcommonwealth.org