_Enter a_ Messenger. But, stay: what news? Why comest thou in such post? _Gabr._ The queen with all the northern earls and lords [cab049] Intend here to besiege you in your castle: [cab050] She is hard by with twenty thousand men; And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. _York._ Ay, with my sword. What! think’st thou that we fear them? [cab053] Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me; My brother Montague shall post to London: [cab055] Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we have left protectors of the king, With powerful policy strengthen themselves, And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths. _Mont._ Brother, I go; I’ll win them, fear it not: [cab060] And thus most humbly I do take my leave. [_Exit._ [cab061] _Enter_ SIR JOHN MORTIMER _and_ SIR HUGH MORTIMER. _York._ Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles, [cab062] You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; The army of the queen mean to besiege us. [cab064] _Sir John._ She shall not need; we’ll meet her in the field. ·cab065· _York._ What, with five thousand men? _Rich._ Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need: A woman’s general; what should we fear? [_A march afar off._ _Edw._ I hear their drums: let’s set our men in order, [cab069] And issue forth and bid them battle straight. ·cab070· _York._ Five men to twenty! though the odds be great, I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. Many a battle have I won in France, When as the enemy hath been ten to one: Why should I not now have the like success? [cab075] [_Alarum. Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Field of battle betwixt Sandal Castle and Wakefield_. _Alarums. Enter_ RUTLAND _and his_ Tutor. _Rut._ Ah, whither shall I fly to ’scape their hands? [cac001] Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes! [cac002] _Enter_ CLIFFORD _and_ Soldiers. _Clif._ Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, [cac004] Whose father slew my father, he shall die. [cac005] _Tut._ And I, my lord, will bear him company. _Clif._ Soldiers, away with him! [cac007] _Tut._ Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man! [cac009] [_Exit, dragged off by Soldiers._ _Clif._ How now! is he dead already? or is it fear [cac010] 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; [cac013] And so he walks, insulting o’er his prey, And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder. ·cac015· 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: Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. ·cac020· _Clif._ In vain thou speak’st, poor boy; my father’s blood [cac021] Hath stopp’d the passage where thy words should enter.