Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
And not with such a cruel threatening look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath:
20 Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.
[♦] Clif. In vain thou speak’st, poor boy; my father’s blood
Hath stopp’d the passage where thy words should enter.
[♦] Rut. Then let my father’s blood open it again:
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
25 Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine