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Brak, Had you such leisure in the time of death,
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep !

clar. Methought, I had ; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air;
But smother'a it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it the sea.
Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony!

Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life ;
o, then began the tempest to my soul!
I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ;
Who cry'd aloud, What
Can this dark monarchy afford

fúlse Clarence

Scourge for perjury
And so he vanish'd : Then came wand'ring by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood; and he shriek'd out aloud,
Clarence is come, -false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury ;-
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments.'-
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after,
Could not believe, but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream.

Brak. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you ;
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done these things,
That now give evidence against my soul,
For Edward's sake; and, see, how he requites me
O God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :
o, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children !
I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace

good
rest!-- (Clarence reposes himself on a chair.
Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours;
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.
Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honour for an inward toil;

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105

10 KING RICHARD II

Bral. Had you sach leisure in the time of death
To game you these secrets of the deep !

Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I strine
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To see the empty, vast, and wand'ring air;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the set
Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony!

Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after like
0, then began the tempest to my soul !
I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick
Who cryd aloud-Ikat scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence
And so he vanish'd: Then came wand'ring by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shriek'd out aloud, -
Clarence is come, --false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,
That sted me in the field by Tewksbury ;-
Seize or him, furier, take him to your torments.
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after,
Could not believe, but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream.

Bral. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you;
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done these things,
That now give evidence against my soul

,
For Edward's sake ; and, see, how he requites me
O God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,

misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me
I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace good

rest! - (Clarence reposes kiuself os a chair.
Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night
Princes hare but their titles for their glories,
Ad outward honour for an isward toil;

Act 1 Se. 4.

KING RICHARD III.
And, for unfelt imaginations,
They often feel a world of restless cares :
So that, between their titles, and low name,
There's nothing differs but the

outward fame.
Enter the two Murderers.
1 Murd. Ho! who's here?
Brak. What would'st thou, fellow ? and how

cam'st thou hither? 1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs.

Brak. What, so brief?

2 Murd. O, sir, 'tis better to be brief than tedious:
Let him see our commission; talk no more.

(A paper is delivered to Brakenbury, who reads it.
Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver
The noble duke of Clarence to your hands :-
I will not reason what is meant hereby,
Because I will be guiltless of the meaning,
Here are the keys; there sits the duke asleep :
I'll to the king; and signify to him,
That thus I have resign'a to you my charge,
1 Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom :
Fare you well.

(Exit Brakenbury: 2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps ?

1 Murd. No; he'll say, 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. 2 Murd. When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake until the great judgment day.

1 Murd. Why, then he'll say, we stabb’d him

2 Murd. The urging of that word, judgment, hath bred a kind of remorse in me.

1 Murd. What? art thou afraid? 2 Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be damn'a for killing him, from the which no warrant can defend me.

Murd. I thought, thou hadst been resolute.
2 Murd. So I am, to let him live.
1 Murd. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, and
? Murd. Nay, I pr’ythee, stay a little : I hope
this holy humour of mine will change ; it was wont
to hold me but while one would tell twenty.

1 Murd How dost thou feel thyself now?
2 Murd. 'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience
are yet within me.

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tell him so.

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1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the deed's
done.

2 Murd. Come, he dies ; I had forgot the reward.
1 Murd. Where's thy conscience now!

Murd. In the duke of Gloster's purse.
1 Murd. So, when he opens his purse to give us
our reward, thy conscience Alles out.

2 Murd. 'Tis no matter; let it go ; there's few,
or none, will entertain it.
I Murd. What, if it come to thee again!

2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangerous
thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot
steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear,
but it checks him; a man cannot lie with his
neighbour's wife, but it detects him: 'Tis a blush-
ing shame-faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's
bosom ; it fills one full of obstacles : it made me
once restore a purse of gold, that by chance!
found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it is
turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous
thing; and every man, that means to live well,
endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it.
1 Murd. "Zounds,

it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke.

2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not: he would insinuate with thee, but to make thee sigh.

1 Murd. I am strong-fram’d, he cannot prevail with me.

2 Murd. Spoke like a tall fellow, that respects his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work!

1 Murd. Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmsey butt, in the next room.

of 2 Murd. O excellent device and make a sop

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1

1 Murd. Soft! he wakes.
2 Murd. Strike.
1 Murd. No, we'll reason with him.
Clar. Where art thou, keeper' give me a cup of

wine.
1 Murd. You shall have wine enough, my lord,
Clar. In God's name, what art thou !
1 Murd. A man, as you are.
Clar. But not, as I am, royal.
1 Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal.

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1 Nurd. Nor you, as we are, loyal.

107

1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the dad
done.

2 Murd. Come, he dies; I had forgot the reward
1 Mund. Where's thy conscience now!
3 Nurd. In the duke of Gloster's purse.

1 Murd. So, when he opens his purse to give
our reward, thy conscience flies out.
9 Murd. 'Tis no matter; let it go; there's for,
or none, will entertain it.

1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again?

2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangero thing, it makes a man a coward; a marcar steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot se but it checks him; a man cannot lie with neighbour's wife, but it detects him: 'Tis a West ing shame-faced spirit, that mutinies in a bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made once restore a purse of gold, that by chance found; it beggars any man that keeps it: * turned out of all towns and cities for a danger thing; and every man, that means to live we endeavours to trust to himself, and live without

I Murd. "Zounds, it is even now at myelhor persuading me not to kill the duke.

2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and belier him not: he would insinuate with thee, bet make thee sigh.

1 Murd. I am strong-fram'd, he cannot posar with me.

2 Murd. Spoke like a tall fellow, that respons his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work! of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmes

the next room. 2 Murd. O excellent device! and make a sipo I Murd. Soft! he wakes. 2 Mard. Strike. I Murd. No, we'll reason with him.

wine. 1 Murd. You shall have wine enough, wy lesk

anon Clar. In God's name, what art thou ! 1 Murd. A man, as you are. Clar. But not, as I am, royal.

Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are

humble.
1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, my looks

mine own.
Clar. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou speak!
Your eyes do menace me: Why look you pale ?
Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
Both Murd. To, to, to,
Clar. To murder me?
Both Murd. Ay, ay.

Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me 30,
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it.
Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?

1 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the king.
Clar. I shall be reconcil'd to him again.
2 Murd. Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die.
Clar. Are you call a forth from out a world of
To slay the innocent? What is my offence ?
Where is the evidence that doth accuse me?
What lawful quest have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge ? or who pronounc'd
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death?
Before I be convict by course of law,
To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
I charge you, as you hope for any goodness,
By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
That you depart, and lay no hands on me;
The deed you undertake is damnable.
1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon command.
2 Murd. And he, that hath commanded, is our

king.
Clar. Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings
Hath in the table of his law commanded,
That thou shalt do no murder; Wilt thou then
Spurn at his edict, aud

fulfil a man's?
Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand,
To hurl upon their heads that break his law.
2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he hurl

on thee,
For false forswearing, and for murder too ;
Thou didst receive the sacrament, to fight
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster.

1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God, Didst break that yow; and with thy treacherous

blade
Uneipp'dat the bowels of thy sovereign's son.

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2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and

defend. 1 Mard. How canst thou urge God's dreadful

law to us,
When thou hast broke it in such dear degree?

Clur. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed !
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake:
He sends you not to murder me for this ;
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avenged for the deed,
0, know you, that he doth it publickly;
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm ;
He needs no indirect nor lawless course,
To cut off those that have offended him.

1 Mard. Who made thee then a bloody minister,
When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee!

Clar. My brother's love, the devil, and my rage.

Murd. 'Thy brother's love,our duty, and thy fault,
Provoke us híther now to slaughter thee.

Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not mo;
I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you are hir'd for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloster;
Who shall reward you better for my life,
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
9 Murd. You are deceir'd, your brother Gloster

hates you.
Clar. O, no; he loves me, and he holds me dear:
Go you to him from me.
Both Murd.

Ay, so we will.
Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father

York
Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other,
He little thought of this divided friendship:
Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep.

1 Murd. Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep.
Clar. O, do not slander him, for he is kind.
1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest.-Come, you

deceive yourself ;
'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here.

Clar. It cannot be ; for he bewept my fortune, And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, 'That he would labour my delivery.

Murd. Why, so he doth, when he delivers you From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven.

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