SCENE IV. THE SAME. A ROOM IN THE TOWER. 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 fearful dreams, of ugly sights, 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 Glo'ster: 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 Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought, that Glo'ster stumbled; and, in fall ing, Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board, O Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes! 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? Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; O, then began the tempest to my soul! I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, The first that there did greet my stranger soul, D Dabbled in blood; and he shriek'd out aloud,— - Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,— Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments!-- Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, 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 reposes himself on a chair. 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: There's nothing differs but the outward fame. Enter the two Murderers. 1 Murd. Ho! who's here? Brak. What would'st thou, fellow? and how cam'st thou hither? 1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. Brak. What, so brief? 2 Murd. O, sir, 'tis better to be brief, than tedious: Let him see our commission; 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. 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 him 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. 2 Murd. So I am, to let him live. 1 Murd. I'll back to the duke of Glo'ster, 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 re ward. 1 Murd. Where's thy conscience now? 2 Murd. In the duke of Glo'ster'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; none, will entertain it. there's few, or 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; à 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 turn'd out |