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

1 Murd. I'll back to the duke of Glofter, and tell him fo.

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 doft thou feel thy felf now?

2 Murd. 'Faith, fome certain dregs of confcience 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 confcience now?

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

1 Murd. So, when he opens his purfe to give us our reward, thy confcience 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?

2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangerous thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot fteal, but it accufeth him; a man cannot fwear, but it checks him; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him: 'Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bofom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made me once reftore a purfe of gold, that by chance I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it is turn'd 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.

■ 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 infinuate with thee, but to make thee sigh. Murd. I am ftrong-fram'd, he cannot prevail with me.

2 Murd.

2 Murd. Spoke like a tall fellow, that refpects his reputation. Come, fhall we fall to work?

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

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

2 Murd. Strike.

1 Murd. No, we'll reafon with him.

Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine. 1 Murd. You fhall 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 doft thou speak!
Your eyes do menace me: Why look you pale?
Who fent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
Both Murd. To, to, to,-
Clar. To murder me?

Both Murd. Ay, ay.

Clar. You fcarcely have the hearts to tell me fo, 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 fhall 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 men, To flay the innocent? What is my offence?

Where is the evidence that doth accufe me?

What lawful quest have given their verdict up

Unto

Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd
The bitter fentence 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 fins,
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 vaffal! the great King of kings Hath in the table of his law commanded,

That thou shalt do no murder; Wilt thou 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 Murd. And that fame vengeance doth he hurl on thee, For false forfwearing, and for murder too:

Thou didst receive the facrament, to fight

In quarrel of the house of Lancaster.

1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God, Didft break that vow; and, with thy treacherous blade, Unrip'dft the bowels of thy fovereign's fon.

2 Murd. Whom thou waft fworn to cherish and defend. 1 Murd. How canft thou urge God's dreadful law to us,

When thou haft broke it in such dear degree?

Clar. Alas! for whofe 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 fin he is as deep as I.

If God will be avenged for the deed,

O, know you, that he doth it publickly;
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;

He needs no indirect nor lawless course,

To cut off thofe that have offended him.

1 Murd. Who made thee then a bloody minister, When gallant-fpringing, brave Plantagenet,

That princely novice, was ftruck 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 flaughter 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 fend you to my brother Glofter;
Who fhall reward you better for my life,
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.

2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother Glofter hates

you.

Clar. O, no; he loves me, and he holds me dear: Go you to him from me.

Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father York Blefs'd his three fons with his victorious arm,

And charg'd us from his foul to love each other,
He little thought of this divided friendship :
Bid Glofter think on this, and he will weep.

1 Murd. Ay, mill-stones; as he leffon'd us to weep.
Clar. O, do not flander him, for he is kind.

1 Murd. Right, as fnow in harvest.-Come, you deceive yourself;

'Tis he that fends us to deftroy you here.

Clar. It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune, And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with fobs, That he would labour my delivery.

1 Murd. Why, fo he doth, when he delivers you From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven.

2 Murd.

2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord. Clar. Haft thou that holy feeling in thy foul,

To counfel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own foul fo blind,

That thou wilt war with God by murdering me?--
Ah, firs, confider, he, that set you on

To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.

2 Murd. What shall we do?

Clar.

Relent, and fave your fouls.

1 Murd. Relent! 'tis cowardly, and womanish. Clar. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish.— Which of you, if you were a prince's fon,

Being pent from liberty, as I am now,-

If two fuch murderers as yourselves came to you,—
Would not entreat for life?—

My friend, I fpy fome pity in thy looks;

O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,

Come thou on my fide, 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.

■ Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will not do.

I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.

[Stabs bim.

[Exit, with the body. 2 Murd. A bloody deed, and defperately defpatch'd! How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands

Of this most grievous guilty murder done!

Re-enter firft Murderer.

1 Murd. How now? what mean'st thou, that thou help'st

me not?

By heaven, the duke shall know how flack you have been.