Imatges de pÓgina
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THAT STABB'D ME IN THE FIELD BY TEWKSBURY.
SEIZE ON HIM. FURIES, TAKE HIM TO YOUR TORMENTS.
Act 1.Sc. 4

London. Published by F. C&J. Rivington, and Partners. Feb 18 23

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;
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'd 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.

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- 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 sleeping.

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❜d for killing him, from the which no warrant can defend me.

1 Murd. I thought, thou had'st been resolute.

2 Murd. So I am, to let him live.

1 Murd. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, and tell him so.

2 Murd. Nay, I pr'ythee, stay a little: I hopet, 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.

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?

2 Murd. In the duke of Gloster's purse.

1 Murd. So, when he opens his purse to give us our

reward, thy conscience flies out.

2 Murd. 'Tis no matter; let it

none, will entertain it.

go;

there's few or

1 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 blushing shame-faced spirit, that

"my holy humour," &c. - MALONE.

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 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.

me.

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

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

1 Murd. Take him over the costard 5 with the hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmsey-butt, in the next room.

2 Murd. O excellent device! and make a sop of him. 1 Murd. Soft! he wakes.

2 Murd. Strike.

1 Murd. No, we'll reason 6 with him.

Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of

wine.

1 Murd. You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon. 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.

Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. 1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, my looks mine

own.

+ Spoke like a tall fellow,] The meaning of tall, in old English, is stout, daring, fearless, and strong.

5

the costard-] i. c. the head; a name adopted from an apple shaped like a man's head.

6 we'll reason-] We'll talk.

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