On him, his sons, his favourites and his friends.
[♦] North. If I be not, heavens be revenged on me!
Clif. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.
West. What, shall we suffer this? let’s pluck him down:
60 My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it.
K. Hen. Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmoreland.
[♦] Clif. Patience is for poltroons, such as he:
He durst not sit there, had your father lived.
My gracious lord, here in the parliament
65 Let us assail the family of York.