Page 808 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

I would prolong a while the traitor’s life. -
Wrath makes him deaf. - Speak thou, Northumberland.

NORT HUMBERLAND

Hold, Clifford; do not honour him so much
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart. [55]
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,
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]

[They fight and take York.]

CLIFFORD

Ay, ay: so strives the woodcock with the gin.

NORT HUMBERLAND

So doth the cony struggle in the net.

Y ORK

So triumph thieves upon their conquered booty;
So true men yield, with robbers so o’er-matched.

[Drops his sword.]

NORT HUMBERLAND

What would your grace have done unto him now? [65]

MARGARET

Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
Come make him stand upon this molehill here,
That raught at mountains with outstretchèd arms
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
What, was it you that would be England’s king? [70]
Was’t you that revelled in our parliament
And made a preachment of your high descent?
Where are your mess of sons to back you now,
The wanton Edward and the lusty George?
And where’s that valiant crook-back prodigy, [75]
Dickie your boy, that with his grumbling voice
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?