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The Same. The Tower. | |
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Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY. | |
| Brak. Why looks your Grace so heavily to-day? | |
| Clar. O, I have pass’d a miserable night, | |
| So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, | 5 |
| 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. | 10 |
| 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, | 15 |
| 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, | 20 |
| 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! | 25 |
| 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. | 30 |
| 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. | 35 |
| 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 | 40 |
| 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; | 45 |
| 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, | 50 |
| 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 | 55 |
| 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 | 60 |
| 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. | 65 |
| 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. | 70 |
| 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; | 75 |
| 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, | 80 |
| 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. | 85 |
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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? | 90 |
| 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, | 95 |
| 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. | 100 |
| 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. | 105 |
| 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. | 110 |
| 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. | 115 |
| 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? | 120 |
| 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? | 125 |
| 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. | 130 |
| 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. | 135 |
| 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? | 140 |
| 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, | 145 |
| 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. | 150 |
| 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 | 155 |
| 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, | 160 |
| 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 | 165 |
| 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. | 170 |
| 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, | 175 |
| 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? | 180 |
| 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, | 185 |
| 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, | 190 |
| 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. | 195 |
| 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 | 200 |
| 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. | 205 |
| 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. | 210 |
| 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. | 215 |
| 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. | 220 |
| 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? | 225 |
| 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. | 230 |
| 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? | 235 |
| 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? | 240 |
| 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 | 245 |
| Of this most grievous murder. | |
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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! | 250 |
| 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: | 255 |
| And when I have my meed, I will away; | |
| For this will out, and here I must not stay. [Exit. | |
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