Page:Henry VI Part 3 (1923) Yale.djvu/27

King Henry the Sixth, I. iii

Clif. How now! is he dead already? Or is it fear

That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them.

Rut. 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,

And 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 reveng'd on men, and let me live.

Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood

Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter.

Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again:

He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine

Were not revenge sufficient for me;

No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves,

And 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.

Therefore—

Rut. O! let me pray before I take my death.

To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me!

Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords.

Rut. I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me?

Clif. Thy father hath.

Rut. But 'twas ere I was born.

 12 pent-up: caged, rendered fierce

14 insulting: exulting in triumph

39 ere I was born; cf. n. 