Som. Ay, thou fhalt 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 foul, 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.

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

[Exit. Som. Have with thee, Poole.-Farewell, ambitious Ri

chard.

[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 out in the next parliament,

Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Glofter:
And, if thou be not then created York,
I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Meantime, in fignal of my love to thee,
Against proud Somerset, and William Poole,
Will I upon thy party wear this rofe:
And here I prophecy,-This brawl to-day
Grown to this faction, in the temple garden,
Shall fend, between the red rose and the white,
A thousand fouls to death and deadly night.

Plan. Good mafter Vernon, I am bound to you,
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.
Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the fame.
Law. And fo will I.

Plan. Thanks, gentle fir.

Come, let us four to dinner: I dare fay,

This quarrel will drink blood another day.

D2

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE V.

The fame. 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.-
Even like a man new haled from the rack,
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment:
And these grey locks, the purfuivants of death,
Neftor-like aged, in an age of care,

Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.

These eyes-like lamps whofe wafting oil is spent,-
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent :

Weak fhoulders, overborne with burd'ning grief;
And pithlefs arms, like to a wither'd vine
That droops his fapless branches to the ground :-
Yet are these feet-whofe ftrengthless stay is numb,
Unable to fupport this lump of clay,-
Swift-winged with defire 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 fent unto the Temple, to his chamber;
And answer was return'd, that he will come.
Mor. Enough; my foul shall then be fatisfy'd.-
Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign,
(Before whofe glory I was great in arms,)
This loathfome fequeftration have I had;
And even fince then hath Richard been obscur'd,
Depriv'd of honour and inheritance :

But

Satchill del.

Henry 6, part 1.

Act II. Scene VI.

Ridley Sculp

Publish d Aug'1, 1800, by Vernor & Hood Poultry.

But now, the arbitrator of despairs,

Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries,
With fweet enlargement doth difmifs me hence;
I would, his troubles likewife were expir'd,
That fo he might recover what was lost.

Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET.

1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend? Is he come ? Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd,

Your nephew, late-despised Richard, comes.
Mor. Direct mine arms, I may embrace his neck,
And in his bofom spend my latter gasp :

O, tell me, when my lips do touch his cheeks,
That I may kindly give one fainting kiss.-

And now declare, fweet stem from York's great stock,
Why didft thou fay-of late thou wert despis'd?

Plan. First, lean thine aged back against mine arm;
And, in that cafe, I'll tell thee my disease.
This day, in argument upon a cafe,

Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me :
Among which terms, he us'd his lavish tongue,
And did upbraid me with my father's death;
Which obloquy set bars before my tongue,
Elfe with the like I had requited him :
Therefore, good uncle,-for my father's fake,-
In honour of a true Plantagenet,

And for alliance' fake-declare the cause

My father, earl of Cambridge, loft his head.

Mor. That caufe, fair nephew, that imprifon'd me, And hath detain'd me, all my flow'ring youth, Within a loathfome dungeon, there to pine,

Was curfed inftrument of his decease.