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

Clar. Methought, I had ; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost ; but still the envious food
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vaft, and wand'ring air;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almoft burft to belch it in the fea.

Brak. Awak'd you not with this fore agony..

Clar. No, no, my dream was length’ned after life
O then began the tempeft to my soul :
I paft, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferry-man, which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger foul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Why cry'd aloud-What 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 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
Inviron'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very

I, trembling, wak'd ; and for a feason after
Could not believe but that I was in hell.
Such terrible impression made my dream.

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

Clar. Ah ! Brakenbury, I have done those things,
That now give evidence against my foul,
For Edward's fake ; and, see, how he requites me!
O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
But thou wilt be avengid on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :
O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children !



I pr’ythee, Brakenbury, stay by me :
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

Brak. I will, my Lord; God give your Grace good rest!
Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, [Afide.
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.
Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honour, for an inward toil ;
And, for unfelt imaginations,
They often feel a world of restless cares :
So that between their ticles, and low name,
There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

Enter the two Murderers. i Vil. Ho, who's here?

Brak. In God's name, what art thou ? how cam'ft thou hither?

2 Vil. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs.

Brak. What, fo brief?

i Vil. 'Tis better, Sir, than to be tedious. Let him fee our commission, and talk no more.

Brak. [Reads] I am in this conimanded, 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. There lies the Duke asleep, and there the keys. I'll to the King, and fignify to him That thus I have resignd to you my charge. [Exit.

i Vil. You may, Sir, 'tis a point of wisdom : fare 2 Vil. What, shall we ftab him as he seeps ?

1 Vil. No; he'll say, 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.

2 Vil. When he wakes ! why, fool, he shall never 'wake until the great judgment-day.

i Vil. Why, then he'll say, we stabb’d him sleeping.

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

I Vil. What ? art thou afraid?

you well.

2 Vil.

2 Vil. Not to kill him, having a warrant for it: but to be damn'd for killing him, from the which no war. rant can defend me.

i Vil. I'll back to the Duke of Glofter, and tell him fo.

2 Vil. Nay, pr’ythee, stay a little : I hope, this holy humour of mine will change; it was wont to hold me but while one could tell twenty,

i Vil. How dost thou feel thyself now?

2 Vil. Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me.

i Vil. Remember the reward, when the deed's done.
2 Vil. Come, he dies : I had forgot the reward.
i Vil. Where's thy conscience now?
2 Vil. O, in the Duke of Glofter's purse.

i Vil. When he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out.

2 Vil. 'Tis no matter, let it go; there's few or none will entertain it.

į Vil. What if it come to thee again?

2 Vil. 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 blushing shame-fac'd 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 I found. It beggars any man, that keeps it. It is turn'd out of towns and cities for a dangerous thing ; and every man, that means to live well, endeavours to trust to-himself, and live without it.

i Vil. 'Tis even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the Duke.

2 Vil. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not: he would infinuate with thee but to make thee figh.

i Vil. I am strong fram’d, he cannot prevail with me,

2 Vil. Spoke like a tall fellow, that respects his rea putation. Come, shall we fall to work?

i Vil. Take him over the costard, with the hilt of thy sword ; and then throw him into the malmsey-but, in the next room.

2 Vih

K 2

2 Vil. O excellent device, and make a fop of him. i Vil. Soft, he wakes. Shall I strike? 2 Vil. No, we'll reason with him. Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine. 2 Vil. You shall have wine enough, my Lord, anon. Clar. In God's name, what art thou ? i Vil. A man, as you are. Clar. But not, as I am, royal. į Vil. Nor you, as we are, loyal. Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble, i Vil. 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 fent you hither? wherefore do you come?

Both. To, to, to-
Clar. To murder me?
Both. Ay, ay.

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

i Vil. Offended us you have not, but the King.
Clar. I shall be reconcil'd to him again.
2 Vil. Never, my Lord, therefore prepare to die.

Clar. Are you call'd forth from out a world of men,
To say the innocent ? What's my offence?
Where is the evidence, that doth accuse me?
What lawful quest haft giv’n 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 to have redemption,
That you depart, and lay no hands on me:
The deed, you undertake, is damnable.

i Vil. What we will do, we do upon command,
2 Vil. And he, that hath commanded, is our King.

Clar. Erroneous vaffals! the great King of Kings
Hath in the table of his law commanded,
That thou shalt do no murder; will you then
Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's


Take heed, for he holds vengeance in his hand,
To hurl upon their heads that break his law.

2 Vil. And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee
For false forfwearing, and for murder too:
Thou didft receive the facrament, to fight
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster.

i Vil. And, like a traitor to the name of God, Didft break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade, Unrip'dit the bowels of thy Sovereign's son.

2 Vil. Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend. i Vil. How can'ít thou urge God's dreadful law to us, When thou hast broke it in such high degree?

Gtar. Alas! for whose fake did I that ill deed?
For Edward, for my brother, for his fake.
He fends 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,
O, know you yet, 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.

i Vil. 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.

i Vil. Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault, Provoke us hither now, to slaughter thee.

Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not me:
I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you are hir'd for meed, go back again, (8)


(8) If you are bird for need,-) I have chose to restore the word, which possesses all the old copies, meed; and as I have elsewhere observ'd in these notes, it signifies, with our author, both merit and the reward of merit. One of the murderers at the close of this scene says :

And when I have my meed, I must away. And Glo'fter says before in this act;

And for his meed, poor Lord, he is mew'd up. In both which places it fignifies reward, I'll now subjoin a palage of two, in which it means merit. K 3

3 Henry

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