Henry VI, Part 3: Act 1, Scene 3

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    Field of battle betwixt Sandal Castle and Wakefield.

    Scene Summary

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    Lord Clifford, whose father was killed at the first Battle of St Albans, captures York's young son Rutland near Wakefield. Rutland's tutor begs for the boy's life; Clifford kills Rutland regardless. This act of revenge on a child establishes Clifford's character for the rest of the play.

    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,
    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!
    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,
    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:
    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.
    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.
    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--
    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.
    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;
    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!
    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