No More Learning

Wilt thou yield the crown?
QUEEN MARGARET. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick! Dare you speak?
When you and I met at Saint Albans last
Your legs did better service than your hands.
WARWICK. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine.
CLIFFORD. You said so much before, and yet you fled.
WARWICK. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.
NORTHUMBERLAND. No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.
RICHARD. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently.
Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain
The execution of my big-swol'n heart
Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.
CLIFFORD. I slew thy father; call'st thou him a child?
RICHARD. Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward,
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland;
But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed.
KING HENRY. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.
QUEEN MARGARET. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.
KING HENRY. I prithee give no limits to my tongue:
I am a king, and privileg'd to speak.
CLIFFORD. My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here
Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still.
RICHARD. Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword.
By Him that made us all, I am resolv'd
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.