Glo. What doth fhe fay, my Lord of Buckingham?
Buck. Nothing that I refpect, my gracious Lord.
Q. Mar. What doft thou fcorn me for my gentle
counsel ?

And footh the devil, that I warn thee from?
O, but remember this another day,

When he shall fplit thy very heart with forrow;
And fay, poor Margret was a Prophetefs.
Live each of you the fubject to his hate,
And he to you, and all of you to God's!

[Exit.

Buck. My hair doth ftand on end to hear her curses.
Riv. And fo doth mine: I wonder fhe's at liberty.
Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy Mother;
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent
My part thereof, that I have done to her.

Dorf. I never did her any to my knowledge.
Glo. Yet you have all the 'vantage of her wrong:
I was too hot to do fomebody good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, for Clarence, he is well repay'd;
"He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains,
God pardon them, that are the cause thereof!
Riv. A virtuous and a chriftian-like conclufion,
To pray
for them, that have done fcathe to us.
Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd;
For had I curft now, I had curst myself.

Enter Catefby.

Catef. Madam, his Majefty doth call for you, And for your Grace, and you, my noble Lord.

9 He is frank'd up to fatting

for his pains.] A Frank is an old English word for a hog-fty. 'Tis poffible he ufes this metaphor to Clarence, in allufion to the creft of the family of York, which was a Boar. Whereto

[Afide.

relate those famous old verses on Richard III.

The cat, the rat, and Lovel the dog

Rule all England under a hog. He uses the fame metaphor in the laft fcenc of act 4.

POPE.

Queen

Queen. Catesby, we come; Lords, will you go with us?

. Riv. Madam, we will attend your Grace.

[Exeunt all but Gloucefter.

Glo. I do the wrong, and firft begin to brawl.
The fecret mifchiefs, that I fet a-broach,
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
Clarence, whom I indeed have laid in darkness,
I do beweep to many fimple gulls,

Namely to Stanley, Haftings, Buckingham;
And tell them 'tis the Queen and her allies
That ftir the King against the Duke my brother.
Now they believe it, and withal whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorfet, Gray.
But then I figh, and with a piece of Scripture,
Tell them, that God bids us do good for evil:
And thus I clothe my naked villany

With old odd ends, ftol'n forth of holy Writ,
And seem a Saint, when moft I play the Devil.

Enter two Murderers.

But foft, here come my executioners.
How now, my handy, ftout, refolved mates,
Are you now going to difpatch this deed?

1 Vil. 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: When you have done, repair to Crosby-place.

But, Sirs, be fudden in the execution,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well-fpoken, and, perhaps,

May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.

Vil. Fear not, my Lord, we will not ftand to prate; Talkers are no good doers; be affur'd,

We go to ufe our hands, and not our tongues.

Gla.

Glo. Your eyes drop mill-ftones, when fools' eyes drop tears.

I like

Brak.

you, lads-about your business-go. [Exeunt.

SCE N E V.

Changes to the Tower.

Enter Clarence and Brakenbury.

WH

1

HY looks your Grace fo heavily to day? Clar. O, I have past a miserable night, So full of ugly fights, of ghaftly dreams, That, as I am a chriftian faithful man, I would not spend another fuch a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; So full of difmal 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 Glofter,
Who from my Cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the Hatches. Thence we look'd tow'rd England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the Wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befal'n us. As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the Hatches,
Methought, that Glofter ftumbled; and in falling
Struck me, that fought to stay him, over-board,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.

Lord, Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noife of waters in my ears!
What fights of ugly death within mine eyes!
I thought, I faw a thoufand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fifhes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Ineftimable ftones, unvalued jewels.

Some lay in dead men's fkulls; and in thofe holes, Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, As 'twere in fcorn of Eyes, reflecting Gems;

2

That woo'd the flimy bottom of the Deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. Brak. Had you fuch leifure in the time of death, To gaze upon the Secrets of the Deep?

Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I ftrive
To yield the ghoft; but ftill the envious flood
Kept in my foul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vaft, and wand'ring air,
But fmother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almoft burft to belch it in the fea.
Brak. Awak'd you not with this fore agony?
Clar. No, no, my dream was length'ned after life;
O then began the tempeft to my foul.

I paft, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferry-man, which Poets write of,
Unto the Kingdom of perpetual Night.

The first that there did greet my ftranger foul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Who cry'd aloud-What fcourge for perjury
Can this dark Monarchy afford falfe Clarence?
And fo he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by
A fhadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he fhriek'd out aloud-
Clarence is come, falfe, 3 fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;

Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!-
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Inviron'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I, trembling, wak'd; and for a feafon after
Could not believe but that I was in Hell:
Such terrible impreffion made my dream.

Brak. No marvel, Lord, that it affrighted you;

2 That woo'd the fimy bottom.] By feeming to gaze upon it.

3 Fleeting is the fame as changing fides.

I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clar. Ah! Brakenbury, I have done thofe things,
That now give evidence against my foul,

For Edward's fake; and, fee, how he requites me!
* O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my mifdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone:

O, fpare my guiltlefs wife, and my poor children!
-I pr'ythee, Brakenbury, ftay by me;

My foul is heavy, and I fain would fleep.

Brak. I will, my Lord; God give your Grace good [Clarence fleeps. $ Sorrow breaks seasons and repofing hours,

reft!

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, 7 for unfelt imaginations,

They often feel a world of restless cares:
So that between their titles, and low name,
There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

SCENE

VI.

Enter the two Murderers.

1 Vil. Ho, who's there?

Brak. In God's name, what art thou? how cam'st