| ACT I SCENE III | Field of battle betwixt Sandal Castle and Wakefield. | |
| | Alarums. Enter RUTLAND and his Tutor | |
| RUTLAND | Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands? | |
| | Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes! | |
| | Enter CLIFFORD and Soldiers | |
| CLIFFORD | Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. | |
| | As for the brat of this accursed duke, | 5 |
| | Whose father slew my father, he shall die. | |
| Tutor | And I, my lord, will bear him company. | |
| CLIFFORD | Soldiers, away with him! | |
| Tutor | Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child, | |
| | Lest thou be hated both of God and man! | 10 |
| | Exit, dragged off by Soldiers | |
| CLIFFORD | How now! is he dead already? or is it fear | |
| | That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them. | |
| RUTLAND | So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch | |
| | That trembles under his devouring paws; | |
| | And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey, | 15 |
| | And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder. | |
| | 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: | 20 |
| | Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. | |
| CLIFFORD | In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood | |
| | Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. | |
| RUTLAND | Then let my father's blood open it again: | |
| | He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. | 25 |
| CLIFFORD | Had thy brethren here, their lives and thine | |
| | 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. | 30 |
| | The sight of any of the house of York | |
| | 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-- | 35 |
| | Lifting his hand | |
| RUTLAND | O, let me pray before I take my death! | |
| | To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me! | |
| CLIFFORD | Such pity as my rapier's point affords. | |
| RUTLAND | I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me? | |
| CLIFFORD | Thy father hath. | 40 |
| RUTLAND | But 'twas ere I was born. | |
| | Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me, | |
| | Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, | |
| | He be as miserably slain as I. | |
| | Ah, let me live in prison all my days; | 45 |
| | And when I give occasion of offence, | |
| | Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. | |
| CLIFFORD | No cause! | |
| | Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. | |
| | Stabs him | |
| RUTLAND | Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae! | 50 |
| | Dies | |
| CLIFFORD | Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! | |
| | And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade | |
| | Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, | |
| | Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. | |
| | Exit | |
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