Collect them all together at my tent: I'll be before thee. Erp. I fhall do't, my Lord. K. Henry. O God of battles! feel my foldiers hearts; And on it have beftow'd mòre contrite tears, No. XIV. KING RICHARD III. ACT I. SCENE IV. The Tower. Enter Clarence and Brakenbury. BRAKENBURY. WHY looks your Grace fo heavily to-day? Clar. O, I have pafs'd a miferable night; Brak. What was your dream, my Lord? I me. pray you, Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; And in my company my brother Glo'fter, Who from my cabin tempted me to walk. tell Upon Upon the hatches. Thence we look'd tow'rd England, Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Lord, Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown! Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in thofe holes, Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I ftrive I pafs'd, methought, the melancholy flood, Clarence Clarence is come, falfe, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence, Clar. Ah! Brakenbury, I have done those things, For Edward's fake; and, fee, how he requites me! O, fpare my guiltlefs wife, and my poor children! My foul is heavy, and I fain would fleep. Brak. I will, my Lord; God give your Grace good ref Sorrow breaks feafons, and repofing hours, Clarence Makes the night morning, and the noontide night. An outward honour for an inward toil; And for unfelt imaginations They often feel a world of reftless cares: Enter the two Murderers. a Vil. Ho! who's there? Brak. In God's name, what art thou? how cam'ft the hither? 2 Vil. I would fpeak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. Brak. What! fo brief? 1 Vil. 'Tis better, Sir, than to be tedious.-Let him fe our commiffion, and talk no more. Brak. [Reads.] I am in this commanded to deliver The : noble Duke of Clarence to your hands. t thus I have refign'd to you my charge. Vil. You may, Sir; 'tis a point of wifdom. Fare you [Exit Brakenbury. Vil. What! fhall we ftab him as he fleeps? Vil. No; he'll fay 'twas done cowardly when he wakes. Vil. When he wakes! Why fool, he shall never wake 1 the great judgment-day. Vil. Why then he'll fay we stabb'd him fleeping. Vil. The urging of that word, Judgment, hath bred a 1 of remorfe in me. Vil. What! art thou afraid? Vil. Not to kill him, having a warant for it: but to damn'd for killing him, from the which no warrant defend me. Vil. I'll back to the Duke of Glo'fter, and tell him fo. Vil. Nay, pr'ythee, ftay a little: I hope this holy huir of mine will change; it was wont to hold me but le one would tell twenty. Vil. How doft thou feel thyself now? Vil. Faith, fome certain dregs of confcience are yet hin me. Vil. Remember the reward, when the deed's done. Vil. O, in the Duke of Glo'fter's purfe. Vil. When he opens his purfe to give us our reward, confcience flies out. Vil. 'Tis no matter, let it go; there's few or none will ertain it. Vil. What if it come to thee again? Vil. I'll not meddle with it; it is a dangerous thing, it kes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it accufeth m; a man cannot fwear, but it checks him; a man cannot with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a thing fhame-fac'd fpirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom : lls one full of obstacles. It made me once restore a purse of of gold, that by chance I found. It beggars any man that keeps it. It is turned out of towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well, endea vours to truft to himself, and live without it. 1 Vil. 'Tis even now at my elbow, perfuading 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 fellow that refpects his reputation. Come, fhall we fall to work? 1 Vil. Take him over the coftard with the hilt of thy fword; and then throw him into the malmfey-butt, in the next room. 2 Vil. O excellent devife!—and make a sop of him. 1 Vil. Soft, he wakes. Shall I strike? 2 Vil. No, we'll reafon with him. Clar. Where art thou, Keeper? Give me a cup of wine. 2 Vil. You shall have wine enough, my Lord, anon. Clar. In God's name, what art thou? i'Vil. A man, as you are. Clar. But not, as I am, royal. 1 Vil. Nor you, as we are, loyal. Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. Vil. My voice is now the King's, my looks mine own. Clar. How darkly, and how deadly, doft thou fpeak! -Your eyes do menace me. Why look you pale? Who fent you hither? wherefore do you come? Both. To, to, to Clar. To murder me? Both. Ay, ay. Clar. Ye fcarcely have the hearts to tell me so, And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? 1 Vil. Offended us you have not, but the King. 2 Vil. Never, my Lord; therefore prepare to die. Unto |