King Henry VI, Part 3 | Page 7

to scape their hands?
Ah, tutor!
look where bloody Clifford comes.
[Enter CLIFFORD and Soldiers.]
CLIFFORD.
Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life.
As for
the brat of this accursed duke
Whose father slew my father, he shall
die.
TUTOR.
And I, my lord, will bear him company.
CLIFFORD.
Soldiers, away with him!
TUTOR.
Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child,
Lest thou be
hated both of God and man.
[Exit, forced 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
threat'ning look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die:
I am
too mean a subject for thy wrath;
Be thou reveng'd 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 I 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--
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 't was 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.
[Clifford stabs him.]
RUTLAND.
Dii 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. 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
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 encount'red 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 charg'd again; but, out, alas!
We
budg'd again, as I have seen a swan
With bootless labour swim
against the tide
And spend her strength with overmatching 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,
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'errun 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.
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