90 And by his soule thou and thy house shall rew it.
West. Plantagenet of thee and of thy sonnes,
Thy kinsmen and thy friendes, Ile haue more liues,
Then drops of bloud were in my fathers vaines.
Clif. Vrge it no more, least in reuenge thereof,
I send thee Warwike such a messenger,
95 As shall reueng his death before I stirre.
War. Poore Clifford, how I skorn thy worthles threats
York. Wil ye we shew our title to the crowne,
Or else our swords shall plead it in the field?