Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company.
[♦] Clif. Soldiers, away with him!
Tut. Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child,
[♦] Lest thou be hated both of God and man! [Exit, dragged off by Soldiers.
[10] Clif. How now! is he dead already? or is it fear
That makes him close his eyes? I’ll open them.
Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o’er the wretch
[♦] That trembles under his devouring paws;
And so he walks, insulting o’er his prey,
15 And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.