The Same. The Tower. |
|
Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY. |
Brak. Why looks your Grace so heavily today? |
Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night, |
So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, |
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 Gloucester, |
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk |
Upon the hatches: thence we look'd toward England, |
And cited up a thousand heavy times, |
During the wars of York and Lancaster, |
That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along |
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, |
Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling, |
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, |
Into the tumbling billows of the main. |
Lord, Lord! methought what pain it was to drown: |
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears! |
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes! |
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wracks; |
A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon; |
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, |
Inestimable stones, unvalu'd jewels, |
All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. |
Some layin 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 those secrets of the deep? |
Clar. Methought I had; and often did I strive |
To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood |
Stopt in my soul, and would not let it forth |
To find the empty, vast, and wandering air; |
But smother'd it within my panting bulk, |
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. |
Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony? |
Clar. No, 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 wandering by |
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair |
Dabbled in blood; and he shriek'd out aloud, |
'Clarence is come,—false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence, |
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;— |
Seize on him! Furies, take him unto torment.' |
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends |
Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears |
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise |
I trembling wak'd, 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 aveng'd 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 sleeps. |
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 names, |
There's nothing differs but the outward fame. |
|
Enter the two Murderers. |
First Murd. Ho! who's here? |
Brak. What wouldst thou, fellow? and how cam'st thou hither? |
First Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. |
Brak. What! so brief? |
Sec. Murd. 'Tis better, sir, than to be tedious.— |
Let him see our commission, and 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. |
There lies the duke asleep, and there the keys. |
I'll to the king; and signify to him |
That thus I have resign'd to you my charge. |
First Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom: fare you well. [Exit BRAKENBURY. |
Sec. Murd. What! shall we stab him as he sleeps? |
First Murd. No; he'll say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. |
Sec. Murd. When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till the judgment-day. |
First Murd. Why, then he'll say we stabbed him sleeping. |
Sec. Murd. The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind of remorse in me. |
First Murd. What! art thou afraid? |
Sec. 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. |
First Murd. I thought thou hadst been resolute. |
Sec. Murd. So I am, to let him live. |
First Murd. I'll back to the Duke of Gloucester, and tell him so. |
Sec. Murd. Nay, I prithee, stay a little: I hope my holy humour will change; it was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty. |
First Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now? |
Sec. Murd. Some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me. |
First Murd. Remember our reward when the deed's done. |
Sec. Murd. 'Zounds! he dies: I had forgot the reward. |
First Murd. Where's thy conscience now? |
Sec. Murd. In the Duke of Gloucester's purse. |
First Murd. So when he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. |
Sec. Murd. 'Tis no matter; let it go: there's few or none will entertain it. |
First Murd. What if it come to thee again? |
Sec. Murd. I'll not meddle with it; 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 shamefast spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles; it made me once restore a purse of gold that 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. |
First Murd. 'Zounds! it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke. |
Sec. Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not: he would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh. |
First Murd. Tut, I am strong-framed; he cannot prevail with me. |
Sec. Murd. Spoke like a tall fellow that respects his reputation. Come, shall we to this gear? |
First Murd. Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmsey-butt in the next room. |
Sec. Murd. O, excellent device! make a sop of him. |
First Murd. Soft! he wakes. |
Sec. Murd. Strike! |
First Murd. No, we'll reason with him. |
Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine. |
First Murd. You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon. |
Clar. In God's name, what art thou? |
First Murd. A man, as you are. |
Clar. But not, as I am, royal. |
First Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal. |
Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. |
First 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? |
First Murd. Offended us you have not, but the king. |
Clar. I shall be reconcil'd to him again. |
Sec. Murd. Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die. |
Clar. Are you call'd 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 quest have given their verdict up |
Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd |
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. |
First Murd. What we will do, we do upon command. |
Sec. 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: will you, 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. |
Sec. 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. |
First Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God, |
Didst break that vow, and, with thy treacherous blade |
Unripp'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. |
Sec. Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend. |
First 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 yet, he doth it publicly: |
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm; |
He needs no indirect or lawless course |
To cut off those that have offended him. |
First 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. |
First 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 Gloucester, |
Who shall reward you better for my life |
Than Edward will for tidings of my death. |
Sec. Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloucester hates you. |
Clar. O, no! he loves me, and he holds me dear: |
Go you to him from me. |
Both Murd. Ay, so we will. |
Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father York |
Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, |
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other, |
He little thought of this divided friendship: |
Bid Gloucester think on this, and he will weep. |
First Murd. Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep. |
Clar. O! do not slander him, for he is kind. |
First Murd. Right; |
As snow in harvest. Thou deceiv'st thyself: |
'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here. |
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. |
First Murd. Why, so he doth, when he delivers you |
From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. |
Sec. 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? |
O! sirs, consider, he that set you on |
To do this deed, will hate you for the deed. |
Sec. Murd. What shall we do? |
Clar. Relent and save your souls. |
First 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 murd'rers 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? |
Sec. Murd. Look behind you, my lord. |
First Murd. [Stabs him.] Take that, and that: if all this will not do, |
I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. [Exit with the body. |
Sec. Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd! |
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands |
Of this most grievous murder. |
|
Re-enter first Murderer. |
First Murd. How now! what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not? |
By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have been. |
Sec. Murd. I would he knew that I had sav'd his brother! |
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; |
For I repent me that the duke is slain. [Exit. |
First 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 here I must not stay. [Exit. |
Design © 1995-2007 ZeFLIP.com All rights reserved.