<SPEECH 1><ACT 5><SCENE 1><95%>
<YOUNG CLIFFORD>	<96%>
	And so to arms, victorious father,
	To quell the rebels and their complices.
</YOUNG CLIFFORD>

<SPEECH 2><ACT 5><SCENE 1><95%>
<YOUNG CLIFFORD>	<96%>
	Foul stigmatic, that's more than thou canst tell.
</YOUNG CLIFFORD>

<SPEECH 3><ACT 5><SCENE 2><97%>
<YOUNG CLIFFORD>	<97%>
	Shame and confusion! all is on the rout:
	Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds
	Where it should guard. O war! thou son of hell,
	Whom angry heavens do make their minister,
	Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part
	Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly:
	He that is truly dedicate to war
	Hath no self-love; nor he that loves himself
	Hath not essentially, but by circumstance,
	The name of valour.
<STAGE DIR>
<Seeing his father's body.>
</STAGE DIR>
	O! let the vile world end,
	And the premised flames of the last day
	Knit heaven and earth together;
	Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
	Particularities and petty sounds
	To cease!—Wast thou ordain'd, dear father,
	To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve
	The silver livery of advised age,
	And, in thy reverence and thy chair-days thus
	To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight
	My heart is turn'd to stone: and while 'tis mine
	It shall be stony. York not our old men spares:
	No more will I their babes: tears virginal
	Shall be to me even as the dew to fire;
	And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims,
	Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax.
	Henceforth I will not have to do with pity:
	Meet I an infant of the house of York,
	Into as many gobbets will I cut it
	As wild Medea young Absyrtus did:
	In cruelty will I seek out my fame.
	Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house:
<STAGE DIR>
<Taking up the body.>
</STAGE DIR>
	As did Æneas old Anchises bear,
	So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders;
	But then Æneas bare a living load,
	Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>

</YOUNG CLIFFORD>

<SPEECH 4><ACT 5><SCENE 2><98%>
<YOUNG CLIFFORD>	<99%>
	But that my heart's on future mischief set,
	I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly;
	But fly you must: uncurable discomfit
	Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts.
	Away, for your relief! and we will live
	To see their day and them our fortune give.
	Away, my lord, away!
</YOUNG CLIFFORD>

