Act 1 - Scene 3
Field of battle betwixt Sandal Castle and Wakefield.
Alarums. Enter RUTLAND and his Tutor
Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands?
Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes!
Enter CLIFFORD and Soldiers
Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life.
As for the brat of this accursed duke,
Whose father slew my
father, he shall die.
And I, my lord, will bear him company.
Soldiers, away with him!
Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child,
Lest thou be hated both of God and man!
Exit, dragged off by Soldiers
How now! is he dead already? or is it fear
That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them.
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,
not with such a cruel threatening look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
I am too mean a subject
for thy wrath:
Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.
In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood
Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter.
Then let my father's blood open it again:
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
Had thy brethren here, their lives and thine
Were not revenge sufficient for me;
No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves
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.
Lifting his hand
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