Whose frown hath made thee faint, and fly ere this. [Draws. QUEEN. Hold, valiant Clifford; for a thoufand caufes I would prolong a while 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. [York is taken prisoner. YORK. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty; So true men yield with robbers fo o'er-matcht, NORTH. What would your grace have done unto him now? QUEEN. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come make him ftand upon this mole-hill here; That raught at mountains with out-ftretched arms, Yet parted but the fhadow with his hand. -What! was it you that would be England's king? Was't you, that revell'd in our parliament, And made a preachment of your high descent ? Where are your mefs of fons to back you now, The wanton Edward, and the lufty George! And where's that valiant crook-back'd prodigy, Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice VOL. IV. Z Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? Or, with the reft, where is your darling Rutland ? I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York. [Putting a paper crown on his head, Ay, marry, fir, now looks he like a king: Is crown'd fo foon, and broke his folemn oath ? Till our king Henry had fhook hands with death. Now in his life, against your holy oath? Oh, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable. Off with the crown; and with the crown his head And whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. QUEEN. Nay, ftay, let's hear the oraifons he makes. YORK. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, Whofe tongue more poifons than the adder's tooth! How ill befeeming is it in thy fex To triumph, like an Amazonian trull, I would affay, proud queen, to make thee blush. To tell thee whence thou cam'ft, of whom deriv'd, Were fhame enough to shame thee, wert thou not fhame lefs : Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, Of both the Sicils and Jerufalem, Yet not fo wealthy as an English yeoman. Hath that poor monarch taught thee to infult? That beggars, mounted, run their horfe to death." Oh, tyger's heart, wrapt in a woman's hide! How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, And yet be seen to wear a woman's face? "Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, falfe French woman. Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood: Oh ten times more than tygers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears, This cloth thou dip'ft in blood of my sweet boy, [He gives back the handkerchief. Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world, NORTH. Had he been slaughter man to all my kin, I could not for my life but weep with him, To see how inly forrow gripes his foul. QUEEN. What, weeping ripe, my lord Northumberland ? Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. CLIF. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's death. [Stabbing him. QUEEN. And here's to right our gentle-hearted king. [Stabs him. YORK. Open the gate of mercy, gracious God! My foul flies through these wounds to feek out thee. [Dies. QUEEN. Off with his head and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York. ACT II. [Exeunt. SCENE I. I Near Mortimer's Crofs in Wales. A march. Enter Edward, Richard, and their power. Wonder, how our princely father 'fcap'd, From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit? Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news; How fare's my brother, why is he fo fad? RICH. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd Where our right valiant father is become. I faw him in the battle range about; |