Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reuerently,
Breake off the parley, for scarse I can refraine
The execution of my big-swolne heart
Vpon that Clifford, that cruell Child-killer

Clif. I slew thy Father, cal'st thou him a Child?
Rich. I like a Dastard, and a treacherous Coward,
As thou didd'st kill our tender Brother Rutland,
But ere Sunset, Ile make thee curse the deed

King. Haue done with words (my Lords) and heare
me speake

Qu. Defie them then, or els hold close thy lips

King. I prythee giue no limits to my Tongue,
I am a King, and priuiledg'd to speake

Clif. My Liege, the wound that bred this meeting here,
Cannot be cur'd by Words, therefore be still

Rich. Then Executioner vnsheath thy sword:
By him that made vs all, I am resolu'd,
That Cliffords Manhood, lyes vpon his tongue

Ed. Say Henry, shall I haue my right, or no:
A thousand men haue broke their Fasts to day,
That ne're shall dine, vnlesse thou yeeld the Crowne