Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Som. So cleare, so shinning, and so euident,
Som. That it will glimmer through a blind‑mans eye.
York. York.
York. Since you are tongue‑ty'd, and so loth to speake,
York. In dumbe significants proclayme your thoughts:
York. Let him that is a true‑borne Gentleman,
York. And stands vpon the honor of his birth,
York. If he suppose that I haue pleaded truth,
York. From off this Bryer pluck a white Rose with me.
Som. Som.
Som. Let him that is no Coward, nor no Flatterer,
Som. But dare maintaine the partie of the truth,
Som. Pluck a red Rose from off this Thorne with me.
War. War.
War. I loue no Colours: and without all colour
War. Of base insinuating flatterie,
War. I pluck this white Rose with Plantagenet.
Suff. Suff.
Suff. I pluck this red Rose, with young Somerset,
Suff. And say withall, I thinke he held the right.