To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey:
But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture,
Tell them-that God bids us do good for evil:
And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With old odd ends, stolen forth of holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

Enter two MURDERERS.

But soft, here come my executioners.-
How now, my hardy, stout, resolved mates?
Are you now going to despatch this thing?

1 Murd. We are, my lord; and come to have the

warrant,

That we may be admitted where he is.
Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about me:
[Gives the 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. Tat, tut, my lord, we will not stand to

prate,

Talkers are no good doers; be assured,
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.
Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stones, 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.

Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENRURY.

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.

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

you, tell me?

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 Eng

land,

And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall'n us. As we paced 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 I
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 smother'd it within my panting bulk *,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony? Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; 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 my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; Who cried 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, fleeting, perjured Clarence,That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments!With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends

• Body.

Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling waked, 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 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,
But thou wilt be avenged 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 [Clarence reposes himself on a Chair.

rest!

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?

how

Brak. What wouldst thou, fellow? And ? camest thou hither?

1 Murd. You may, Sir; 'tis a point of wisdom: Fare you well. [Exit Brakenbury. 2 Murd. 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, bath bred a kind of remorse in me.

1 Murd. What? 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 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 humour 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 noue, 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 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 re store a purse 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.

1 'Murd. 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me to kill the duke.

Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling waked, 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 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,
But thou wilt be avenged 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!

[Clarence 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?

Brak. What wouldst thou, fellow? And how

camest thou hither?

1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I

came hither on my legs.

Brak. What, so brief?

2 Murd. O, Sir, "tis better to be brief, than te

dious:

Let him see our commission; talk no more.

[A Paper is delivered to Brakenbury,

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, 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 charge.