Page:Henry VI Part 3 (1923) Yale.djvu/46

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Who should succeed the father but the son?

Rich. Are you there, butcher? O! I cannot speak.

Clif. Ay, crook-back; here I stand to answer thee,

Or any he the proudest of thy sort.

Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not?

Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.

Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight.

War. What sayst thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown?

Queen. Why, how now, long tongu'd Warwick! dare you speak?

When you and I met at Saint Albans last,

Your legs did better service than your hands.

War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine.

Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled.

War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.

North. No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.

Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently.

Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain

The execution of my big-swoln heart

Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

Clif. I slew thy father: call'st thou him a child?

Rich. Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward,

As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland;

But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed.

King. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.

Queen. Defy them, then, or else hold close thy lips.

 97 any proudest: the proudest one whatever

sort: party

109 reverently: in respect 