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Queen. Hold, valiant Clifford; for a thousand. I would prolong a while the traitor's life. [caules - Wrath makes him deaf. Speak thou, Northum
berland. North. Hold, Clifford, do not honour him so much, , To prick thy finger, though io wound his laeart. 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 fooi 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 itrives the woodcock with the gin. Norih. So doth the coney struggle in the net.
[York is taken prisoner. York. So triumph thieves upon their conquerd
booty; So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd. North. What would your Grace have done unto
hiin now? Queen. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumber
land, Come, make him stand upon this mole-hill here, That raught at mountains with out-stretched arins, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. -What! was it you that would be England's King? Was't you that revelld in our parliament, And made a preachment of your high defçent? Where are your mess of sons to back you now, The wanton Edward and the lusty George ! And where's that valiant crook-back'd prodigy, Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice Was wont to cheer his Dad in mutinies? Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland ? . Look, York; I staind this napkin with the blood That valiani Clifford with his rapier's point Made issue from the bosom of the boy ; And if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. Alas!
poor York; but that I hate thee deadly, , I should lament thy miserable state. I prythee, grieve, to make me merry, York...
What, hath thy fiery heart fo parchi'd thine entrails,
[Putting a paper crown on his heado
Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake. Queen. Nay, stay, let's hear the oraisons he makes. Pork. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves
of France, Whose longue more poisons than the adder's tooth: How ill-beleeming is it in thy fex To triumph, like an Amazonian trull, Upon their woes whom fortune captivates ? But that thy face is, vizor-like, unchanging, Made in pudent with use of evil deeds, I would assay, proud Queen, to make thee blush. To tell thee whence thou cam'ft, of whom deriv'd, Were fame enough to Mame thee, wert thou not
Diameless: Thy fasher bears the type of King of Naples, Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem, yet not so wealthy as an English veomın. Flath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud Queen,. Unless the adage mult be verify'd,
" That leggars mounted run their horse to death."
North. Beihrew me but his pafsions move me so, That hardly can I check mine eyes from tears.
York. That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touch'd, would not have staind i
with blood; But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, Oh ten times more, than tygers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless Queen, a hapless father's tears ; This cloth thou dip’dst. in blood of my sweet boy, , And I with tears do walh the blood away, Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this; And, if thou tell'it the heavy story right, Upon my soul the hearers will thed tears; Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, And say,
Alas, it was a piteous deed!"
[He gives back the handkerchief.: Government, in the language of that time, signified: evenness of cemper and decency of manners. Fohnjordson
There-take the crosyn; and with the crown my
North. Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin,
Queen. What, weeping ripe, my Lord Northum. Think but upon the wrong he did us all, [berland? 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 himi York. Open the gate of mercy, gracious God! My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee..
Queen. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York. [Exeunt.
SC EN E I.
I the no
Near Mortimer's Crofs. in Wales.. A March. Enter Edward, Richard, and their power.
Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd
As doth a lion in a herd of neat;
Edw. Dazzle mine eyes? or do I see three suns
Rich. Three glorious fiins, each one a perfect fun, Not separated with the racking clouds, But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. See, fee, they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, As if they vow'd some league inviolable ; Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun.. In this the heaven figures fome event.
Edw. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never
I speak it,
Enter a Melenger.
Mell. Ah! one that was a woful looker on,
much. Rich. Say how he dy'd; for I will hear it all.
Mes Environed he was with many foes, And itood against them, as the hope of Troy