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Q. Mar. And turns the sun to sbade;-alas !
alas ! Witness my son, now in the shade of death; Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath Hath in eternal darkness folded up." Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest :O God, that see'st it, do not suffer it; As it was won with blood, lost be it so !
Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity.
Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me; Uncharitably with me have you dealt, And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd. My charity is outrage, life my shame, And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage!
Buck. Have done, have done.
Q. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand, In sign of league and amity with thee: Now fair befal thee, and thy noble house! Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, Nor thou within the compass of my curse.
Buck. Nor no one here; for curses never pass The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky, And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace, O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog; Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he bites, His venom tooth will rankle to the death : Have not to do with him, beware of him ; Sin, death, and hell, have set their marks on him ; And all their ministers attend on him.
Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham? Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle
counsel ? And sooth the devil that I warn thee from? O, but remember this another day, When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow; And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess.Live each of you the subjects to his hate, And he to yours, and all of you to God's! [Exit.
Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her
curses. Riv. And so doth mine; I muse*, why she'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.
Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge.
Glo. Yet you have all the vantage f of her wrong. I was too hot to do somebody good, That is too cold in thinking of it now Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid; He is frank'd I up to fatting for his pains ; God pardon them that are the cause thereof !
Riv. A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion, To pray for them that have done scath $ to us.
Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd; For had I curs’d now, I had curs’d myself. [4side.
[Exeunt all but Gloster.
* Wonder. † Advantage. Put in a sty. Harm.
With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ;
. Enter two Murderers.
warrant, That we may be admitted where he is. Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about me:
[Gives the warrant. When you have done, repair to Crosby-place. But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps, May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. 1 Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to
prate, Talkers are no good doers! be assur’d, We go to use our hands, and not our tongues. Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools' eyes
drop tears : I like you, lads ;-about your business straight; Go, go, despatch. i Murd. We will, my noble lord.
| 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 dismal terror was the time.
you, tell me.
Tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; And, in my company, my brother Gloster : Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward Eng
land, 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 Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board, Into the tumbling billows of the main. O 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 wrecks ; A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea.. Some lay in 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 these secrets of the deep?
Clar. Methought, I had ; and often did I strive To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring 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. O, no, my dream was lengthen’d after life; 0, 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 cry'd aloud,What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ? And so he vanish’d: Then came wand'ring by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood : and he shriek'd out aloud, Clarence is come,-false, fleeting, perjurd 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 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 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 :