I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that sour ferryman which poets write of, -Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 45 50 The first that there did greet my stranger soul ence, That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury. 55 60 65 I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me! 70 O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children! My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. Keep. I will, my lord. God give your Grace good [Clarence sleeps.] rest! Enter Brakenbury, the Lieutenant. 76 Brak. 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, 80 They often feel a world of restless cares, So that, between their titles and low name, Enter the two Murderers. 1. Murd. Ho! who's here ? Brak. What wouldst thou, fellow, and how cam'st thou hither? 2. Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. Brak. What, so brief? 85 1. Murd. 'Tis better, sir, than to be tedious. Let him see our commission, and talk no 90 more. Brakenbury reads it. Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands. That thus I have resign'd to you my charge. 95 Exit [with Keeper]. 1. Murd. You may, sir, 'tis a point of wisdom. Fare you well. 2. Murd. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps ? 1. Murd. No; he'll say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. 100 2. Murd. Why, he shall never wake until the 105 great judgement-day. 1. Murd. Why, then he'll say we stabb'd him sleeping. 2. Murd. The urging of that word "judgement" hath bred a kind of remorse in me. 1. Murd. What, art thou afraid? 2. Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant; 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 Gloucester and 110 115 tell him so. 2. Murd. Nay, I prithee, stay a little. I hope this passionate humour of mine will change. 120 It was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty. 1. Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now ? 2. Murd. Some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me. 1. Murd. Remember our reward, when the deed's done. 2. Murd. 'Zounds, he dies! I had forgot the reward. 1. Murd. Where's thy conscience now? 2. Murd. O, in the Duke of Gloucester's purse. 2. Murd. 'Tis no matter; let it go. There's few 125 130 135 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 140 lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing shamefac'd spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom. It fills a man full of obstacles. It made me once restore a purse of gold that by chance I found. It beggars any man that keeps 145 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. ['Zounds,] 'tis even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the Duke. [1.] Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not; he would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh. [2.] Murd. I am strong-fram'd, he cannot prevail [1.] Murd. Spoke like a tall man that respects thy of thy sword, and then throw him into the [1.] Murd. O excellent device! and make a sop of [2.] Murd. Soft! He wakes. [1.] Murd. Strike! [2.] Murd. No, we'll reason with him. 150 155 160 165 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? [2.] Murd. A man, as you are. Clar. But not, as I am, royal. [2.] Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal. 170 Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. [2.] Murd. My voice is now the King's, my looks mine own. |