of York;
And in the towns, as they do march along,
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him:
Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.
I would your highness would depart the field:
The queen hath best success when you are absent.
Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune.
Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay.
Be it with resolution then to fight.
My royal father, cheer these noble lords
And hearten those that fight in your defence:
Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry 'Saint George!'
Now, perjured Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace,
And set thy diadem upon my head;
Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?
Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy!
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?
I am his king, and he should bow his knee;
I was adopted heir by his consent:
Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear,
You, that are king, though he do wear the crown,
Have caused him, by new act of parliament,
To blot out me, and put his own son in.
And reason too:
Who should succeed the father but the son?
Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak!
Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer thee,
Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not?
Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.
For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight.
What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown?
Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick! dare you speak?
When you and I met at Saint Alban's last,
Your legs did better service than your hands.
Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine.
You said so much before, and yet you fled.
'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.
No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.
Northumberland, I hold thee reverently.
Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain
The execution of my big-swoln heart
Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.
I slew thy father, call'st thou him a child?
Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward,
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland;
But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed.
Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.
Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.
I prithee, give no limits to my tongue:
I am a king, and privileged to speak.
My liege,