Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Third Part of King Henry the Sixth/Act 1 Scene 3

by William Shakespeare

Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.

Rutland.
Ah, whither shall I flye, to scape their hands?
Ah Tutor, looke where bloody Clifford comes.

Enter Clifford.

Clifford.
Chaplaine away, thy Priesthood saues thy life.
As for the Brat of this accursed Duke,
Whose Father slew my Father, he shall dye.

Tutor.
And I, my Lord, will beare him company.

Clifford.
Souldiers, away with him.

Tutor.
Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child,
Exit.Least thou be hated both of God and Man.

Clifford.
How now? is he dead alreadie?
Or is it feare, that makes him close his eyes?
Ile open them.

Rutland.
So looks the pent-vp Lyon o're the Wretch,
That trembles vnder his deuouring Pawes:
And so he walkes, insulting o're his Prey,
And so he comes, to rend his Limbes asunder.
Ah gentle Clifford, kill me with thy Sword,
And not with such a cruell threatning Looke.
Sweet Clifford heare me speake, before I dye:
I am too meane a subiect for thy Wrath,
Be thou reueng'd on men, and let me liue.

Clifford.
In vaine thou speak'st, poore Boy:
My Fathers blood hath stopt the passage
Where thy words should enter.

Rutland.
Then let my Fathers blood open it againe,
He is a man, and Clifford cope with him.

Clifford.
Had I thy Brethren here, their liues and thine
Were not reuenge sufficient for me:
No, if I digg'd vp thy fore-fathers Graues,
And hung their rotten Coffins vp in Chaynes,
It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the House of Yorke,
Is as a furie to torment my Soule:
And till I root out their accursed Line,
And leaue not one aliue, I liue in Hell.
Therefore———

Rutland.
Oh let me pray, before I take my death:
To thee I pray; sweet Clifford pitty me.

Clifford.
Such pitty as my Rapiers point affords.

Rutland.
I neuer did thee harme: why wilt thou slay me?

Clifford.
Thy Father hath.

Rutland.
But 'twas ere I was borne.
Thou hast one Sonne, for his sake pitty me,
Least in reuenge thereof, sith God is iust,
He be as miserably slaine as I.
Ah, let me liue in Prison all my dayes,
And when I giue occasion of offence,
Then let me dye, for now thou hast no cause.

Clifford.
No cause? thy Father slew my Father: therefore dye.

Rutland.
Dis faciant laudis summa sit ista tuæ.

Clifford.
Plantagenet, I come Plantagenet:
And this thy Sonnes blood cleauing to my Blade,
Shall rust vpon my Weapon, till thy blood
Exit.Congeal'd with this, doe make me wipe off both.

 

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