The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 5 of 9] · William Shakespeare
SCENE III. _Field of battle betwixt Sandal Castle and Wakefield_.
_Alarums. Enter_ RUTLAND _and his_ Tutor. _Rut._ Ah, whither shall I fly to ’scape their hands? [cac001] Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes! [cac002] _Enter_ CLIFFORD _and_ Soldiers. _Clif._ Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, [cac004] Whose father slew my father, he shall die. [cac005] _Tut._ And I, my lord, will bear him company. _Clif._ Soldiers, away with him! [cac007] _Tut._ Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man! [cac009] [_Exit, dragged off by Soldiers._ _Clif._ How now! is he dead already? or is it fear [cac010] That makes him close his eyes? I’ll open them. _Rut._ So looks the pent-up lion o’er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws; [cac013] And so he walks, insulting o’er his prey, And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder. ·cac015· Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, And not with such a cruel threatening look. Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die. I am too mean a subject for thy wrath: Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. ·cac020· _Clif._ In vain thou speak’st, poor boy; my father’s blood [cac021] Hath stopp’d the passage where thy words should enter. _Rut._ Then let my father’s blood open it again: [cac023] He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
_Clif._ Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine ·cac025· Were not revenge sufficient for me; No, if I digg’d up thy forefathers’ graves And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the house of York [cac030] Is as a fury to torment my soul; And till I root out their accursed line And leave not one alive, I live in hell. Therefore-- [_Lifting his hand._ [cac034] _Rut._ O, let me pray before I take my death! ·cac035· To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me! _Clif._ Such pity as my rapier’s point affords. _Rut._ I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me? _Clif._ Thy father hath. _Rut._ But ’twas ere I was born. Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me, ·cac040· Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, He be as miserably slain as I. Ah, let me live in prison all my days; And when I give occasion of offence, Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. ·cac045· _Clif._ No cause! Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. [cac047] [_Stabs him._ _Rut._ Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuæ! [cac048] [_Dies._ _Clif._ Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! And this thy son’s blood cleaving to my blade ·cac050· Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, Congeal’d with this, do make me wipe off both. [cac052] [_Exit._
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.