And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. 28
Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest;
I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.
Alarum and Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, and Soldiers, Montague and Clarence.
Edw. Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bids us pause,
And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. 32
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen,
That led calm Henry, though he were a king,
As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
Command an argosy to stem the waves. 36
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape;
For, though before his face I speak the words,
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave; 40
And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.
Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?
Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing.
Edw. See who it is: and now the battle's ended, 44
If friend or foe let him be gently us'd.
Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford;
Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, 48
But set his murth'ring knife unto the root
From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring,
I mean our princely father, Duke of York.
28 effuse: shedding.
36 argosy: large merchant vessel
42-44 Cf. n.
46 doom: judgment
48 when . . . forth: in youth
49 But set; cf. n.
