And till I root out their accursed line, And leave not one alive, I live in hell. Therefore [Lifting his hand. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death :--To thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me! Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou slay me? Clif. Thy father hath. Rut. But 'twas ere I was born Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me; Lest, in revenge thereof,sith God is just,— Ah, let me live in prison all my days; Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. [Dies. [CLIFFORD stabs him. Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tuæ! Clif. 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.-The same. 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 pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves. My sons-God knows, what hath bechanced them: But this I know,-they have demean'd themselves A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre! With this, we charg'd again: but, out, alas! 'We bodg'd 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 and Soldiers. 'Come, bloody Clifford,-rough Northumberland,- North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. 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? Clif. 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 thou 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. Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word; But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. [Draws. Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes I would prolong awhile the traitor's life:Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland. North. 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. [They lay hands on YORK, who struggles. Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. North. So doth the coney struggle in the net. [YORK is taken prisoner. York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty; So true men yield, w.th robbers so o'ermatch'd. North. What wo, id your grace have done unto him now? Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford, and Northumber land, Come make him stand upon this molehill here; *What! was it you, that would be England's king? And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York; * Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad; [Putting a paper crown on his head. Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! |