For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps,
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.
1 Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to
prate,

Talkers are no good doers! be assur'd,
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.
Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools' eyes
drop tears:

I like you, lads ;-about your business straight;
Go, go, despatch.
1 Murd.
We will, my noble lord. [Exe.
SCENE IV.-The same. A room in the Tower.
Enter Clarence and Brakenbury.

Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?
Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days:
So full of dismal terror was the time.

Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray
you, tell me.

Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the
Tower,

And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy;
And, in my company, my brother Gloster:

Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Clarence is come,-false, fleeting, perjur'd Cla

rence,

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, that 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! [Cla. 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;

Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward En- And, for unfelt imaginations,

gland,

And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,

Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board,
Into the turnbling billows of the main.

O Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears!
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea.

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes
Where eves did once inhabit, there were crept,
(As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems,
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
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'd it within my panting bulk,'
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony?
Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life;
9, 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 erv'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,-
(1) Body.

VOL. II.

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 f came hither on my legs.

Brak. What, so brief?

2 Murd. O, sir, 'tis better to be brief than te-
dious:-

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.

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 hadst 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 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 B

2 Murd. 'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience | What lawful quest' have given their verdict up 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 go; there's few, or none, will entertain it.

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

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 2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a danger-Hath in the table of his law commanded, ous thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot That thou shalt do no murder; Wilt thou then steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's? it checks him; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand, wife, but it detects him: 'Tis a blushing shame-faced To hurl upon their heads that break his law. 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 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.

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 with him.

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

cup

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.

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.

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 vow; and, with thy treacherous blade,

Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.

2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend.

1 Murd. How canst thou urge God's dreadful
law to us,

When thou hast broke it in such dear degree?
Clar. 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,
O, know you, that he doth it publicly;
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;
He needs no indirect nor lawless course,
To cut off those that have offended him.

1 Murd. 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.
1 Murd. 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,
And I will send you to my bother Gloster;
Who shall reward you better for my life,
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
2 Murd. You are deceiv'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

Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,
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'd forth from out a world of

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, mill-stones; 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.

1 Murd. Why, so he doth, when he delivers you From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. 2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.

Clar. Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
That thou wilt war with God, by murd'ring me?
Ah, sirs, consider, he, that sent you on

To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.
2 Murd. What shall we do?
Clar.

Relent, and save your souls.
1 Murd. Relent! 'tis cowardly, and womanish.
Clar. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish.-
Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
Being pent' from liberty, as I am now,-

If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,-
Would not entreat for life ?-

My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks;
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,

Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
As you would beg, were you in my distress.
A begging prince what beggar pities not?
2 Murd. Look behind you, my lord.
1 Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will not
do,
[Stabs him.
I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.
[Exit with the body.
2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately des-
patch'd!

How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous guilty murder done!

Re-enter first Murderer.

SCENE I-The same. A room in the palace.
Enter King Edward (led in sick,) Queen Eliza-
beth, Dorset, Rivers, Hastings, Buckingham,
Grey, and others.

K. Edw. Why, so:-now have I done a good
day's work;-

You peers, continue this united league:
I every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer to redeem me hence;
And more in peace my soul shall part to heaven,
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.
Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand;
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.
Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging
hate;

And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.
Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like!

(1) Shut up.

K. Edw. Take heed, you dally not before your
king;

Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings,
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award
Either of you to be the other's end.

Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!

Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!
K. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt in this,
Nor your son Dorset,-Buckingham, nor you;-
You have been factious one against the other.
Wife, love lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand;
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

Q. Eliz. There, Hastings; I will never more
remember

Our former hatred, so thrive I, and mine!

K. Edw. Dorset, embrace him,-Hastings, love
lord marquis,

Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest,
Upon my part shall be inviolable.
Hast. And so swear I.

[Embraces Dorset. K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou,

this league

With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
And make me happy in your unity.

Buck. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate Upon your grace, [To the Queen.] but with all duteous love

Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love!
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assured that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me! this do I beg of heaven,
When I am cold in love, to you, or yours.

[Embracing Rivers, &c. K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,

Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloster, here,
To make the blessed period of this peace.
Buck. And, in good time, here comes the noble
duke.

Enter Gloster.

Glo. Good-morrow to my sovereign king, and
queen;

And, princely peers, a happy time of day!
K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the
day:-

Brother, we have done deeds of charity;
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege.-
Among this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe;

Have aught committed that is hardly borne
If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
By any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
'Tis death to me, to be at enmity;

I hate it, and desire all good men's love.-
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;-
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ;-
Of you, lord Rivers,-and, lord Grey, of you,-
That all without desert have frown'd on me ;-
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive,
With whom my soul is anv jot at odds,
More than the infant that is born to-night;
I thank my God for my humility.

Q. Eliz. A holy-day shall this be kept hereafter '-

I would to God, all strifes were well compounded.-
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness.
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.
Glo. Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not, that the gentle duke is dead?
[They all start.
You do him injury, to scorn his corse.
K. Edw. Who knows not he is dead! who knows
he is?

Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this!
Buck. Look I so pale, lord Dorset, as the rest?
Dor. Ay, my good lord; and no man in the
presence,

But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

K. Edw. Is Clarence dead? the order was revers'd.

Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died, And that a winged Mercury did bear; Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, That came too lag to see him buried:God grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal, Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, And yet go current from suspicion.

Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! K. Edw. I pr'ythee, peace; my soul is full of

Enter Gloster, Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, I Ratcliff, and others.

Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star,
But none can cure the harms by wailing them.
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy,

I did not see your grace:-Humbly on my knee
I crave your blessing.

Duch. God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast,

Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!

Glo. Amen; and make me die a good old man!That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing; [Aside. I marvel, that her grace did leave it out.

Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing peers,

That bear this mutual heavy load of moan,