War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
[♦] Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.
Edw. Thou pitied’st Rutland; I will pity thee.
75 Geo. Where’s Captain Margaret, to fence you now?
[♦] War. They mock thee, Clifford: swear as thou wast wont.
[♦] Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes hard
When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath.
I know by that he’s dead; and, by my soul,
[80] If this right hand would buy two hours’ life,