And much 28
Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest;
I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.
Alarum and Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, and Soldiers, Montague and Clarence.
Edw. Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bids us pause,
And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. 32
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen,
That led calm Henry, though he were a king,
As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
Command an to stem the waves. 36
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape;
For, though before his face I speak the words,
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave; 40
And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.
Clifford groans [and dies].
Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?
Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing.
Edw. See who it is: and now the battle's ended, 44
If friend or foe let him be gently us'd.
Rich. Revoke that
Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch
In hewing Rutland , 48
his murth'ring knife unto the root
From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring,
I mean our princely father, Duke of York.