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Dorf. I never did her any, to my knowledge.
Glo. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong:
I was too hot, to do fome body good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now:
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repay'd;
He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains,
God pardon them that are the caufe thereof.
Riv. A virtuous and a Chriftian-like conclufion,
To pray for them that have done fcathe to us.
Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd.
For had I curft now, I had curft my self.

Enter Catesby.

[Afide.

Catef. Madam, his Majefty doth call for you, And for your Grace, and yours, my gracious Lord. Queen. Catesby, I come; Lords, will you go with me? Riv. We wait upon your Grace.

[Exeunt all but Glocefter.
Gle. I do the wrong, and firft begin to brawl.
The fecret Mischiefs that I fet a-broach,
I lay unto the grievous Charge of others.
Clarence, whom I indeed have caft in Darkness,
I do beweep to many fimple Gulls,
Namely to Derby, Haftings, Buckingham,
And tell them, 'tis the Queen and her Allies
That ftir the King againft the Duke my Brother.
Now they believe it, and withal whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorfet, Gray.
But then I figh, and with a piece of Scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
And thus I cloath my naked Villany

With odd old Ends, ftoln forth of Holy Writ,
And feem a Saint, when most I play the Devil.
Enter two Villains.

But foft, here come my Executioners:
How now my hardy ftout refolved Mates,
Are you now going to difpatch this thing?

1 Vil. 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: When you have done, repair to Crosby Place,

But, Sirs, be fudden in the Execution,

H 4

Withal

Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead ;

For Clarence is well-spoken, and, perhaps,

May move your Hearts to pity, if you mark him.

Vl. Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not ftand to prate, Talkers are no good doers; be affur'd,

We go to use our Hands, and not our Tongues.

Glo. Your Eyes drop Mill-ftoncs, when Fools Eyes fall Tears.

I like you Lads, about your business straight.

Go, go, difpatch.

Vil. We will, my Noble Lord.

SCENE IV.

Enter Clarence and Keeper.

[Exeunt.

Keep. Why looks your Grace fo heavily to day?
Clar. O I have paft a miferable Night,
So full of fearful Dreams of ugly Sights,
That, as I am a Chriftian faithful Man,
I would not fpend another fuch a Night,
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy Days:
So full of difmal Terror was the time.

Keep. What was your dream, my Lord, I pray you tell me.
Cla. Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embark'd to crofs to Burgundy,

And in my Company my Brother Glofter,
Who from my Cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the Hatches. There we look'd toward England,
And cited up a thoufand heavy Times,
During the Wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befal'n us. As he pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the Hatches,
Methought that Glo'fter ftumbled, and in falling
Struck me, that thought to ftay him, over-board,
Into the tumbling Billows of the Main.

O Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful Noife of Waters in mine Ears !
What fights of ugly Death within mine Eyes!
Methoughts, I faw a thousand fearful Wracks;
A thoufand Men that Fishes gnaw'd upon:
Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heaps of Pearl,

Ineftimable

Ineftimable Stones, unvalued Jewels

All fcatter'd in the bottom of the Sea:

Some lay in dead Mens Skulls, and in the holes.
Where Eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in fcorn of Eyes, reflecting Gems,
That woo'd the flimy bottom of the Deep,
And mock'd the dead Bones that lay fcatter'd by.
Keep. Had you fuch leifure in the time of Death,
To gaze upon the Secrets of the Deep?

Clar. Methought I had, and often did I ftrive
To yield the Ghoft; but ftill the envious Flood
Stop'd in my Soul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vaft, and wand'ring Air;
But fmother'd it within my panting Bulk,
Who almoft burft to belch it in the Sea.

Keep. Awak'd you not in this fore Agony?
Clar. No, no, my Dream was lengthen'd after Life.
O then began the Tempeft to my Soul:

I paft, methought, the melancholy Flood,
With that four Ferry-man which Poets write of,
Unto the Kingdom of perpetual Night.
The firft that there did greet my Stranger-foul,
Was my great Father-in-Law, renowned Warwick,
Who fpake aloud-What Scourge for Perjury
Can this dark Monarchy afford falfe Clarence?
And fo he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by,
A Shadow like an Angel, with bright Hair
Dabbl'd in Blood, and he fhriek'd out aloud-
Clarence is come, falfe, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,
That ftabb'd me in the Field by Tewksbury;
Seize on him, Furies, take him unto Torment-
With that, methought, a Legion of foul Fiends
Inviron'd me, and howled in mine Ears
Such hideous Cries, that with the very Noife,
I, trembling, wak'd; and for a feafon after
Could not believe but that I was in Hell:
Such terrible Impreffions made my Dream.
Keep. No marvel, Lord, tho' it affrighted you,,
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.
Clar. Ah Keeper, Keeper, I have done these things,
That now give evidence againft my Soul,

For

For Edward's fake; and fee how he requites me.
O God! if my deep Prayers cannot appeafe thee,
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my Mifdeeds,
Yet execute thy Wrath on me alone :

O fpare my guiltlefs Wife, and my poor Children.
Keeper, I prithee fit by me a-while,

My Soul is heavy, and I fain would fleep.

Keep. I will, my Lord, God give your Grace good reft. Enter Brakenbury the Lieutenant.

Brak. Sorrow breaks Seasons and repofing 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 reftless Cares:
So that between their Titles and low Name,
There's nothing differs but the outward Fame.
Enter two Villains.

I Vil. Ho, who's here?

Brak. What would'ft thou, Fellow? And how cam'st thou hither?

a Vil. I would fpeak with Clarence, and I came hither on my Legs.

Brak. What, fo brief?

I vil. 'Tis better, Sir, than to be tedious:
Let him fee our Commiffion, and talk no more.
Brak, I am in this commanded, to deliver
The Noble Duke of Clarence to your Hands.
I will not reafon what is meant hereby,
Because I will be guiltlefs from the meaning.
There lyes the Duke afleep, and there the Keys.
I'll to the King, and fignifie to him,
That thus I have refign'd to you my charge.
1 Vil. You may, Sir, 'tis a point of Wisdom :
Fare you well.

2 Vil. What, fhall we ftab him as he fleeps?

[Reads.

[Exit.

1 Vil. No; he'll fay 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. 2 Vil. Why he fhall never wake, until the great Judgment Day:

1 Vil. Why then he'll fay, we ftabb'd him fleeping. 2 Vil. The urging of that word Judgment, hath bred a kind of Remorfe in mc.

1 Vil. What? art thou afraid?

2 Vil. Not to kill him, having a Warrant.

But to be damn'd for killing him, from the which
No Warrant can defend me.

1 Vil. I thought thou hadst been resolute.

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

1 Vil. I'll back to the Duke of Glo'fter, and tell him fo. 2 Vil. Nay, prithee stay a little :

I hope this paffionate Humour of mine will change;
It was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty.
I Vil. How doft thou feel thy felf now?

2 Vil. Some certain dregs of Confcience are yet within me.
1 Vil. Remember the Reward, when the Deed's done.
2 Vil. Come he dies: I had forgot the Reward.

1 Vil. Where's thy Confcience now?

a Vil. O, in the Duke of Glofter's Purfe.

1 Vil. When he opens his Purfe to give us our Reward, thy Confcience flies out.

2 Vil. 'Tis no matter, let it go; there's few or none will entertain it.

I Vil. What if it come to thee again?

à Vil. I'll not meddle with it, 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 lye with his Neigh bour's Wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blufhing fhamefac'd Spirit, that mutinies in a Man's Bofom: It fills a Man full of Obftacles. 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 Towrs and Cities for a dangerous thing, and every Man that means to live well, endeavours to truft to himself, and live without it.

1 Vil. 'Tis even now at my elbow, perfwading me not to kill the Duke.

2 Vil. Take the Devil in thy mind, and believe him not: He would infinuate with thee but to make thee figh.

1 Vil. I am ftrong fram'd, he cannot prevail with me. 2 Vil. Spoke like a tall Man, that refpects thy Reputation. Come, fhall me fall to work?

1 Vil. Take him on the Coftard, with the Hilt of thy Sword, and then throw him into the Malmfie-butt in the next Room.

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