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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 millstones, when fools' eyes

drop tears:

I like you, lads;—about your business strait;
Go, go, despatch.

1 Murd. We will, my noble lord. [Exeunt.


The Same. A Room in the Tower.
Enter Clarence and BrakenBury.

Hruk. 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


And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy;
And, in my company, my brother Gloster:
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England,

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 tumbling 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 eyes .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.

Brat. 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 af1er


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 rny great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
Who 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, Jleeting, perjur'd Clarence,
That stabb'd me in the field by Tcu'kcsbury ;
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 af1er,
Could not believe but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream.

Brak. No man-el, 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,

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