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How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates ?
Are you now going to despateh this thing?

1 Murd. We are, my lord; and come to have the That we inay be admitted where he is. ' warrant, Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about me:

he Warrant. When you have done, repair to Crosby-place. But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; 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 te prate, Talkers are no good doers! be assur'd, We go to use our hands, and not our tongues. Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stopes, when fools' eyes

? drop tears : I like you, lads; about your business straight; Go, go, despatch.'

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

SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the Tower. ii 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. [lell me?

Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray yoù,

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 Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England, And cited up a thousand heavy tiines, 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.

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 sinother'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; 0, 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 cried aloud, -What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clurence ? And so he valjish'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, fleeting, perjur'd Clurence, -That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury ;Seize on him, furies, tuke him to your torments !

With that, methought a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me, and bowled 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, though it affrigirted 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! [Clar. 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?.. . [thou hither? Brak. What wouldst thou, fellow ? and how cam’st

1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. .

Brak. What, so brief?

2 Murd, 0, sir, 'tis better to be brief than tedious: Let him see our commission; talk no more.

. [A Paper is delivered to Brak. 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. ii
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 chạrge..

1 Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom: Fare you well.

. ; [Exit Brakenbury. 2 Nurd. 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. Wbat! 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 resolutę. 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 mino will change; it was want 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 go;, there's few, or none, will entertain it.

1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again?
2 Murd. I'll not ineddle with it, it is a dangerous

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thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but it cheeks 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 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 ain 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 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

Clar. How darkly, and bow 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?

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