CLIFFORD.
And reason, too;
Who should succeed the father but the son?

RICHARD.
Are you there, butcher?--O, I cannot speak!

CLIFFORD.
Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer thee,
Or any he the proudest of thy sort.

RICHARD.
'T was you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not?

CLIFFORD.
Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.

RICHARD.
For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight.

WARWICK.
What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown?

QUEEN MARGARET.
Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick! dare you speak?
When you and I met at Saint Alban's last,
Your legs did better service than your hands.

WARWICK.