Exit, dragged off by Soldiers CLIFFORD How now! is he dead already? or is it fear That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them. RUTLAND So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws;And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey, And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, And not with such a cruel threatening look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath:
Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. CLIFFORD In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. RUTLAND Then let my father's blood open it again:
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. CLIFFORD Had thy brethren here, their lives and thine Were not revenge sufficient for me;No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the house of York Is as a fury to torment my soul;And till I root out their accursed line And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore--
Lifting his hand RUTLAND O, let me pray before I take my death!
To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me! CLIFFORD Such pity as my rapier's point affords. RUTLAND I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me? CLIFFORD Thy father hath. RUTLAND But 'twas ere I was born.
Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me, Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, He be as miserably slain as I.
Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
And when I give occasion of offence, Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. CLIFFORD No cause!
Thy father slew my father; therefore, die.
Stabs him RUTLAND Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae!
Dies CLIFFORD Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet!
And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both.
Exit SCENE IV. Another part of the field. Alarum. Enter YORK YORK The army of the queen hath got the field:
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
And all my followers to the eager foe Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves.
My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them:
But this I know, they have demean'd themselves Like men born to renown by life or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me.
And thrice cried 'Courage, father! fight it out!'
And full as oft came Edward to my side, With purple falchion, painted to the hilt In blood of those that had encounter'd him:
And when the hardiest warriors did retire, Richard cried 'Charge! and give no foot of ground!'
And cried 'A crown, or else a glorious tomb!
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!'
With this, we charged again: but, out, alas!
We bodged again; as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide And spend her strength with over-matching waves.
A short alarum within Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue;And I am faint and cannot fly their fury:
And were I strong, I would not shun their fury:
The sands are number'd that make up my life;Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, PRINCE EDWARD, and Soldiers Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, I dare your quenchless fury to more rage:
I am your butt, and I abide your shot. NORTHUMBERLAND Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. CLIFFORD Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm, With downright payment, show'd unto my father.
Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car, And made an evening at the noontide prick. YORK My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all:
And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.
Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear? CLIFFORD So cowards fight when they can fly no further;So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. YORK O Clifford, but bethink thee once again, And in thy thought o'er-run my former time;And, if though canst for blushing, view this face, And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this! CLIFFORD I will not bandy with thee word for word, But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. QUEEN MARGARET Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes I would prolong awhile the traitor's life.
Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland. NORTHUMBERLAND Hold, Clifford! do not honour him so much To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart:
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, When he might spurn him with his foot away?
It is war's prize to take all vantages;
And ten to one is no impeach of valour.