Yorke, and Henrie the Sixt.
487388Come bloudie
Clifford, rough
Northumberland,
488389I dare your quenchle
sse furie to more bloud:
489390This is the But, and this abides your
shot.
490391Northum. Yeeld to our mercies proud
Plantagenet.
491392Clif. I, to
such mercie as his ruthfull arme
492393With downe right paiment lent vnto my father,
493394Now
Phaeton hath tumbled from his carre,
494395And made an euening at the noone tide pricke.
495396York. My a
shes like the
Phoenix maie bring forth
496397A bird that will reuenge it on you all,
497398And in that hope I ca
st mine eies to heauen,
498399Skorning what ere you can a
ffli
ct me with:
499400Why
staie you Lords? what, multitudes and feare?
500401Clif. So cowards
fight when they can
flie no longer:
501402So Doues doe pecke the Rauens pier
sing tallents:
502403So de
sperate theeues all hopele
sse of their liues,
503404Breath out inue
ctiues gain
st the o
fficers.
504405York. Oh
Clifford, yet bethinke thee once againe,
505406And in thy minde orerun my former time:
507407And bite thy toung that
slaunder
st him with cowardi
se,
508408Who
se verie looke hath made thee quake ere this.
509409Clif. I will not bandie with thee word for word,
510410But buckle with thee blowes twi
se two for one.
511411Queene. Hold valiant
Clifford for a thou
sand cau
ses,
512412I would prolong the traitors life a while.
513413Wrath makes him death,
speake thou
Northumberland.
514414Nor. Hold
Clifford, doe not honour him
so much,
515415To pricke thy
finger though to wound his hart:
516416What valure were it when a curre doth grin,
517417For one to thru
st his hand betweene his teeth,
518418When he might
spurne him with his foote awaie?
B