2 Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant for it, but to be damned 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 humor 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 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 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 lie with his neighbor'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, endeavors 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-framed; he cannot prevail with me.

2 Murd. reputation.

Spoke like a tall1 fellow, that respects his
Come, shall we fall to work?

1 Murd. Take him over the costard 2 with the hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmsey butt, in the next room.

2 Murd. O, excellent devise! 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 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.

Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, 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 reconciled to him again.

2 Murd. Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die. Clar. Are you called forth from out a world of men, To slay the innocent? What is my offence? Where is the evidence that doth accuse me?

What lawful quest3 have given their verdict up

1 i. e. a bold, courageous fellow.

2 Head.

3 Quest was the term for a jury. "A quest of twelve men, Duodecim viratus."-Baret.

Shakspeare has followed the current tale of his own time. But the truth is, that Clarence was tried and found guilty by his peers, and a bill

Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounced
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 to have redemption
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 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 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;

of attainder was afterwards passed against him. According to sir Thomas More, his death was commanded by Edward; but he does not assert that the duke of Gloster was the instrument. Polydore Virgil says, though he talked with several persons who lived at the time, he never could get any certain account of the motives that induced Edward to put his brother to death.

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,2 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 hired for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloster;
Who shall reward you better for my life,
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.

2 Murd. You are deceived; your brother Gloster hates you.3

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

Both Murd.

Clar. Tell him, when

Aye, so we will.

that our princely father York Blessed his three sons with his victorious arm, And charged 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 lessoned 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 hugged me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, That he would labor my delivery.

1 Blooming Plantagenet, a prince in the spring of life. 2 Youth, one yet new to the world.

3 Walpole rightly suggested, from the Chronicle of Croyland, that the true cause of Gloster's hatred to Clarence was, that Clarence was unwilling to share with his brother that moiety of the estate of the great earl of Warwick, to which Gloster became entitled on his marriage with the younger sister of the duchess of Clarence, lady Anne Neville, who had been betrothed to Edward prince of Wales.

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 murdering me?Ah, sirs, consider, he that set 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,

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

[Stabs him.

[Exit, with the body. 2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately despatched!

How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands

Of this most grievous, guilty murder done!

Re-enter first Murderer.

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

help'st me not?

By Heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have

been.

2 Murd. I would he knew that I had saved his

brother!