Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.- You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, Nor any of the house of Lancaster? Enter a Messenger. But, stay; What news? Why com'st thou in such post? She is hard by with twenty thousand men; York. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou, that we fear them? Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;- [Exit. Enter SIR JOHN and SIR HUGH MORTIMER. York, Sir John, and sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles! You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; The army of the queen mean to besiege us. Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in the field. York. What, with five thousand men? Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A woman's general; what should we fear? [A March afar off. Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our men in order; And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. York. Five men to twenty!-though the odds be great, I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. Many a battle have I won in France, When as the enemy hath been ten to one; Why should I not now have the like success? [Alarum. Exeunt. SCENE 111. Plains near SANDAL CASTLE. Alarums: Excursions. Enter RUTLAND and his Tutor. Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands? Ah, tutor! look, where bloody Clifford comes! Enter CLIFFORD and Soldiers. Cliff Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, Whose father slew my father, he shall die. Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. Tut. Ah, Clifford! murder not this innocent child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man. [Exit, forced off by Soldiers. Cliff. How now! is he dead already? Or, is it fear, That makes him close his eyes?-I'll open them. Rut. 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. Cliff. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. Cliff. 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 till I root out their accursed line, [Lifting his Hand. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death: To thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me! Cliff. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou slay me? Cliff. Thy father hath. Rut. But 'twas ere I was born. 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. Cliff. No cause? Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. [Clifford stabs him. Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tua! [Dies. And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade, 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: Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind, In blood of those that had encounter'd him: And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury: Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUM- Come, bloody Clifford,-rough Northumberland,— North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car, And made an evening at the noontide prick. York. My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven, York. O, Clifford, but bethink thee once again, And ten to one is no impeach of valour. [They lay Hands on York, who struggles. Cliff. 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, with robbers so o'er-match'd. [now North. What would your grace have done unto him Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford, and Northumberland, Come, make him stand upon this molehill here; |