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, 96
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. 100
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. 104
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. 108
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. 112
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. 116
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
