[60] And ten to one is no impeach of valour. [They lay hands on York, who struggles.
Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.
[♦] North. So doth the cony struggle in the net.
York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer’d booty;
[♦] So true men yield, with robbers so o’er-match’d.
65 North. What would your grace have done unto him now?
Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
Come, make him stand upon this molehill here,
[♦] That raught at mountains with outstretched arms,
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.