Yor. I thanke thee Clifford: Say, what newes with thee?
Nay, do not fright vs with an angry looke:
We are thy Soueraigne Clifford, kneele againe;
For thy mistaking so, We pardon thee
Clif. This is my King Yorke, I do not mistake,
But thou mistakes me much to thinke I do,
To Bedlem with him, is the man growne mad
King. I Clifford, a Bedlem and ambitious humor
Makes him oppose himselfe against his King
Clif. He is a Traitor, let him to the Tower,
And chop away that factious pate of his
Qu. He is arrested, but will not obey:
His sonnes (he sayes) shall giue their words for him
Yor. Will you not Sonnes?
Edw. I Noble Father, if our words will serue