Whose father slew my father, he shall die..

The sight of any of the house of York

Is as a fury to torment my soul;

And till I root out their accursed line,

And leave not one alive, I live in hell. Therefore

[lifting his hand. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death :To thee I pray sweet Clifford, pity me!

Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords.

Rut. I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me?

Clif. Thy father hath.

Rut.

But 'twas ere I was born.

Thou hast one son: for his sake pity me;

Lest, in revenge thereof,-sith 1 God is just,-
He be as miserably slain as I.

Ah, let me live in prison all my days;

And when I give occasion of offence,

Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
Clif. No cause?

Thy father slew my father; therefore die.

[Clifford stabs him. Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tuæ ! 2

Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade,

[dies.

í Since.

2 Heaven grant that this may be your greatest boast!'Ovid. Epist.