PLATE LXXI.

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Henry

                       Ac! I. Scene III.


FIELD OF BATTLE BETWIXT SANDAL CASTLE AND WAKEFIELD.


     RUTLAND and his TUTOR, CLIFFORD and SOLDIERS.


       c4~ord.-Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life.
     As for the brat of this accursed duke,
     Whose father slew my father, he shall die.
       ThIor.-And I, my lord, will bear him company.
       U~ord.-Soldiers, away with him!
       Tu/or.-Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child,
     Lest thou be hated both of God and man!
                          [Exit, dragged o~ by Soldiers.
       Cl~ft~ord.-How noxv! is he dead already? or is it fear
     That makes him close his eyes?  I'll open them.

 Ru/hwd.-So looks the pent-up lion o'er
That trembles under his devouring paws;
And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey,
And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.
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 subjed for thy wrath:
Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.

the wretch

           Pain/ed by 7AMES NORTHCOTE, R. A.

FL