Page 836 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

That led calm Henry, though he were a king,
As doth a sail, filled with a fretting gust, [35]
Command an argosy to stem the waves.
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?

WARWICK

No, ’tis impossible he should escape;
For, though before his face I speak the words,
Your brother Richard marked him for the grave [40]
And wheresoe’er he is he’s surely dead.

Clifford groans [and then dies].

EDWARD

Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?

RICHARD

A deadly groan like life and death’s departing.

EDWARD

See who it is and, now the battle’s ended,
If friend or foe, let him be gently used. [45]

RICHARD

Revoke that doom of mercy, for ’tis Clifford
Who, not contented that he lopped the branch
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
But set his murd’ring knife unto the root
From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring - [50]
I mean our princely father, Duke of York.

WARWICK

From off the gates of York fetch down the head,
Your father’s head, which Clifford placèd there;
Instead whereof let this supply the room:
Measure for measure must be answerèd. [55]

EDWARD

Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house
That nothing sung but death to us and ours:
Now death shall stop his dismal threat’ning sound