And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. Why come you not! what! multitudes, and fear? Clif. So cowards fight, when they can fly no further; So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. York. O, Clifford, but bethink thee once again, And in thy thought o'er-run my former time: * And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face; And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice, • Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this. Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word; But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. [Draws. Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford for a thousand causes, I would prolong awhile the traitor's life:- [They lay hands on YORK, who struggles. Clif. 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; It is war's prize-] It is the estimation of people at war; the settled opinion, ic | So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-match'd. North. What would your grace have done unto him now? Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come make him stand upon this molehill here; "That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, Yet parted but the shadow 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? Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York; mad; * And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. That raught -] i. e. That reach'd. The ancient preterite and participle passive of reach. 9 this napkin-] A napkin is a handkerchief, Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. [Putting a paper Crown on his Head. Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? Till our king Henry had shook hands with death. Now in his life, against your holy oath ? O, '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." Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake. Q. Mar. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he makes. York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, "Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex, To triumph like an Amazonian trull, Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates? But that thy face is, visor-like, unchanging, Made impudent with use of evil deeds, I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush: Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem; Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. 2 3 And will you pale] i. e. impale, encircle with a crown. the type-] i. e. the distinguishing mark; an obsolete use of the word. Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. As the Antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the septentrion." : O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. Bid'st thou me rage? why now thou hast thy wish: • Would'st have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will: For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And, when the rage allays, the rain begins. These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies; And every drop cries vengeance for his death,'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false French woman. North. Beshrew me, but his passions move me so, That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. York. That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood: 'Tis government, that makes them seem divine ;] Government, in the language of that time, signified evenness of temper, and decency of manners. JoHNSON. 5 septentrion.] i. e. the North. Septentrio, Lat. But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,- Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: He gives back the Handkerchief. And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right, There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my curse; And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee, my kin, I should not for my life but weep with him, To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my lord North umberland? 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. king. [Stabbing him. Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-hearted [Stabbing him. York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God! My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee. Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York. [Ereunt. |