Riv. And so doth mine; I muse, why she's at Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy mother; : SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the Tower, Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY. Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day? Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge. Enter CATESBY. I do beweep to many simple gulls; But sft, here come my executioners. — ; 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: Talkers are no good doers; be assur'd, I like you, lads ; about your business straight; We will, my noble lord. Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England, Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, O Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I strive Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony? I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, The first that there did greet my stranger soul, [CLARENCE reposes himself on a chair. They often feel a world of restless cares : 1 Murd. Ho! who's here? 1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. Brak. What, so brief? : 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. 1 Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom: Fare you well. [Exit BRAKENBURY. 2 Murd. What, shall we stab fum 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. 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 had'st been resolute. 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 rewar'. 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 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 am 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 malmseybutt, in the next room. 2 Murd. O excellent device! and make a sop of him. 1 Murd. Soft! he wakes. 2 Murd. Strike. That you depart, and lay no hands on me; 1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon command. 2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee, For false forswearing, and for murder too : 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? 1 Murd. Who made thee then a bloody minister, When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet, That princely novice, 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 hir'd 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. Clar. It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune, And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, That he would labour my delivery. 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?- 1 Ah, sirs, consider, he, that set you on To do this deed, will hate you for the deed. Relent, and save your souls. 1 Murd. Relent! 'tis cowardly, and womanish. If two such murderers as yourselves came to you, My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks; 1 Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will not I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. [Exit, with the body. 2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately de spatch'd! 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? 2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloster By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have Both Murd. Ay, so we will. been. 2 Murd. I would he knew, that I had sav'd his brother! Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father For I repent me that the duke is slain. York Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, [Exit. 1 Murd. So do not I; go, coward, as thou art. Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole, Till that the duke give order for his burial: And when I have my meed, I will away; For this will out, and then I must not stay. [Erit. You peers, continue this united league : From my Redeemer to redeem me hence; K Edw. Why, so: now have I done a good Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand; day's work; Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging | If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ; — hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! K. Edw. Take heed, you dally not before your king; Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings, Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love! Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. Buck. And, in good time, here comes the noble duke. Enter GLOSTER. Glo. Good morrow to my sovereign king, and queen; And, princely peers, a happy time of day! Of you, lord Rivers, -and lord Grey, of you, Q. Eliz. A holy-day shall this be kept hereafter I would to God, all strifes were well compounded.My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness To take our brother Clarence to your grace. Glo. Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this, To be so flouted in this royal presence? Who knows not, that the gentle duke is dead? [They all start. You do him injury, to scorn his corse. K. Edw. Who knows not, he is dead! who knows he is? Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this! Buck. Look I so pale, lord Dorset, as the rest? Dor. Ay, my good lord? and no man in the presence, But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. K. Edw. Is Clarence dead? the order was revers'd. Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died, And that a winged Mercury did bear; Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, That came too lag to see him buried: God grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal, Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, And yet go current from suspicion ! Enter STANLEY. Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! K. Edw. I pr'ythee, peace; my soul is full of sorrow. Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness hear me. K. Edw. Then say at once, what is it thou request'st. Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman, Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk. K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death, And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love? day: Brother, we have done deeds of charity; Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege. Among this princely heap, if any here, By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, If I unwittingly, or in my rage, Have aught committed that is hardly borne To reconcile me to his friendly peace: I hate it, and desire all good men's love. Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake But for my brother, not a man would speak, [Exeunt KING, QUEEN, HASTINGS, RIVERS, Glo. This is the fruit of rashness! - Mark'd you not, How that the guilty kindred of the queen [Exeunt. Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with a Son and Daughter of CLARENCE. Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? Duch. No, boy. Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience? Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragick violence: ---Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? Why wither not the leaves, that want their ? If you will live, lament; if die, be brief; That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; Or, like obedient subjects, follow him To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. sar Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow, As I had title in thy noble husband! I have bewept a worthy husband's death, But now, two mirrors of his princely semblance To over-go thy plaints, and drown thy cries? Son. Ah, aunt! you wept not for our father's death; Daugh. Why, do you weep so oft? and beat your How can we aid you with our kindred tears? And cry breast; O Clarence, my unhappy son! Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your head, And call us orphans, wretches, cast-aways, Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both; I do lament the sickness of the king, As loath to lose him, not your father's death; Son. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. Daugh. And so will I. Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well: Incapable and shallow innocents, You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death. Told me, the king, provok'd to't by the queen, Daugh. Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd, Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept ! Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation, I am not barren to bring forth laments : Chil. Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence. Q. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward? and he's gone. Q. Eliz. Was never widow, had so dear a loss. Chil. Were never orphans, had so dear a loss. Duch. Was never mother, had so dear a loss. Alas! I am the mother of these griefs; Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. She for an Edward weeps, and so do I; I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she : These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I: I for an Edward weep, so do not they : Alas! you three, on me, threefold distress'd, Duch. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse, shapes, And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice! Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble, grandam? Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, distractedly; RIVERS and DORSET following her. Q. Eliz. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and weep? To chide my fortune, and torment myself? And I will pamper it with lamentations. Dor. Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeas'd, That you take with unthankfulness his doing; Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother Of the young prince your son: send straight for him, Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives: Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grace, And plant your joys in living Edward's drone. |