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, 44
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. 48
Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word,
But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.
Queen. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes
I would prolong awhile the traitor's life. 52
Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland.
North. Hold, Clifford! do not honour him so much
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart.
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, 56
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,
When he might spurn him with his foot away?
It is war's prize to take all vantages,
And ten to one is no impeach of valour. 60
Clif. Ay, ay; so strives the woodcock with the gin.
North. So doth the cony struggle in the net.
York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty;
So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-matched. 64
North. What would your Grace have done unto him now?
Queen. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
Come, make him stand upon this molehill here,
45 o'er-run: review
50 buckle . . . blows: strive with blows
56 grin: show his teeth
59 prize: privilege
60 impeach: derogation
61 woodcock: a proverbially silly bird
gin: snare
62 cony: rabbit
67 Cf. n.
