Alarum. Exit.
Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.
Rutland. Ah, whither shall I flye, to scape their hands?
Ah Tutor, looke where bloody Clifford comes.
Enter Clifford.
Clifford. Chaplaine away, thy Priesthood saues thy life.
As for the Brat of this accursed Duke,
Whose Father slew my Father, he shall dye
Tutor. And I, my Lord, will beare him company
Clifford. Souldiers, away with him
Tutor. Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child,
Least thou be hated both of God and Man.
Enter.
Clifford. How now? is he dead alreadie?
Or is it feare, that makes him close his eyes?
Ile open them
Rutland. So looks the pent-vp Lyon o're the Wretch,
That trembles vnder his deuouring Pawes:
And so he walkes, insulting o're his Prey,
And so he comes, to rend his Limbes asunder.
Ah gentle Clifford, kill me with thy Sword,
And not with such a cruell threatning Looke.
Sweet Clifford heare me speake, before I dye:
I am too meane a subiect for thy Wrath,
Be thou reueng'd on men, and let me liue
Clifford. In vaine thou speak'st, poore Boy:
My Fathers blood hath stopt the passage
Where thy words should enter