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 'twas 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.
Stabs him
RUTLAND
Di 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