Page 837 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 837
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
WARWICK
I think his understanding is bereft. - [60]
Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?
Dark cloudy death o’ershades his beams of life
And he nor sees nor hears us what we say.
RICHARD
O would he did! And so, perhaps, he doth:
’Tis but his policy to counterfeit [65]
Because he would avoid such bitter taunts
Which in the time of death he gave our father.
GEORGE
If so thou think’st, vex him with eager words.
RICHARD
Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace.
EDWARD
Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. [70]
WARWICK
Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
GEORGE
While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
RICHARD
Thou did’st love York and I am son to York.
EDWARD
Thou pitied’st Rutland; I will pity thee.
GEORGE
Where’s Captain Margaret to fence you now? [75]
WARWICK
