4. SCENE IV. London. The Temple-garden.
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.
Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition!
And so farewell until I meet thee next.
Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious Richard.
How I am braved and must perforce endure it!
This blot that they object against your house
Shall be wiped out in the next parliament
Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester;
And if 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 Pole,
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.
Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you,
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.
In your behalf still will I wear the same.
And so will I.
Thanks, gentle sir.
Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say
This quarrel will drink blood another day.