The Tragedie of Richard D. of
1330Who kild our tender brother
Rutland,
¶And
stabd our princelie father Duke of
Yorke.
1335War. From off the gates of
Yorke fetch downe the
¶Head, Your fathers head which
Clifford placed there,
¶In
steed of that, let his
supplie the roome.
¶Mea
sure for mea
sure mu
st be an
swered.
¶Edw. Bring forth that fatall
skrichowle to
our house,
1340That nothing
sung to vs but bloud and death,
¶Now his euill boding tongue no more
shall
speake.
¶War. I thinke his vnder
standing is bereft.
¶Say
Clifford, doe
st thou know who
speakes to thee?
1345Darke cloudie death ore
shades his beames of life,
¶And he nor
sees nor heares vs what we
saie.
¶Rich. Oh would he did, and
so perhaps he doth,
¶And tis his policie that in the time of death,
¶He might auoid
such bitter
stormes as he
1350In his houre of death did giue vnto our father.
¶George. Richard if thou thinke
st
so, vex him with ea-
¶Rich. Clifford, a
ske mercie and obtaine no grace.
¶Edw. Clifford, repent in bootle
sse penitence.
1355War. Clifford deui
se excu
ses for thy fault.
¶George. Whil
st we deui
se fell tortures for thy fault.
¶Rich. Thou pittied
st
Yorke, and I am
sonne to
Yorke.
¶Edw. Thou pittied
st
Rutland, and I will pittie thee.
¶George. Wheres captaine
Margaret to fence you
now?
1360War. They mocke thee
Clifford,
sweare as thou wa
st
¶Rich. What not an oth? Nay, then
I know hees dead,