WARWICK.
And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget
That we are those which chased you from the field
And slew your fathers, and with colours spread
Marched through the city to the palace gates.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief;
And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.
WESTMORELAND.
Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons,
Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I’ll have more lives
Than drops of blood were in my father’s veins.
CLIFFORD.
Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words,
I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger
As shall revenge his death before I stir.
WARWICK.
Poor Clifford, how I scorn his worthless threats!
YORK.
Will you we show our title to the crown?
If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.
KING HENRY.
What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown?
Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York;
Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March.
I am the son of Henry the Fifth,
Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop,
And seized upon their towns and provinces.
WARWICK.
Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all.
KING HENRY.
The Lord Protector lost it, and not I.
When I was crowned I was but nine months old.
RICHARD.
You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose.
Father, tear the crown from the usurper’s head.