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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 Neeping 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 upon him,
And all their ministers attend on him,

Gle. 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 footh 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 subject to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's! [Exit.

Buck. My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.
Rin. And so doth mine: I wonder 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.

Dors. I never did her any, to my knowledge.

Glo. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong:
I was too hot to do some body 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 christian-like conclusion,
To pray for them that have done scathe to us.

Glo. So do I ever, being well advis’d;
For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd my felf. [Afide.

Enter Catesby.
Catef. Madam, his Majesty doth call for you,


And for your Grace, and you, my noble Lord.

Queen. Catesby, we come; Lords, will you go with us? Riv. Madam, we will attend your Grace.

Exeunt all but Gloucester.
Glo. I do the wrong, and firit begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs that I set a-broach
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
Clarence, whom I indeed have laid in darkness,
I do beweep to many simple gulls,
Namely to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham;
And tell them, 'tis the Queen and her allies
That stir the King against the Duke my brother.
Now they believe it, and withal whet me
To be reveng’d on Rivers, Dorset, Gray.
But then I sigh, and with a piece of scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil :
And thus I cloathe my naked villainy
With old odd ends, ftol'n forth of holy writ,
And seem a Saint, when most I play the Devil,

Enter two Villains.
But soft, here come my executioners.
How now, my hardy, stout, resolved mates,
Are you now going to dispatch this deed ?

I 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 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.

2 Vil. Fear not, 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. [tears.

. Your eyes drop mill-Itones, when fools eyes drop I like you, lads; about your business; go. (Exeunt.

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Enter Clarence and Brakenbury.
THY looks your Grace Co heavily to-day?

So full of ugly fights, of ghaftly 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.

[me, Brak. What was your dream, my Lord? I pray you, tell

Cla. Methought that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy, And in my company my brother Gloʻster, Who from my cabbin 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 befaľn us. As we pafs'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 noise of waters in my ears! What fights of ugly death within mine eyes! I thought 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. 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 the secrets of the deep?

Cla. 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 find the empty, vast, and wand'ring air ;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almoft burst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awak’d. you not in this fore agony?

Cla. No, no, my dream was lengthen'd 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 stranger-soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Who cry'd aloud - What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford falfe Clarence?
And so he vanilh’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, perjur'd Clarence,
That stabb’d me in the field by Tewskbury;
Seize on bim, 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 impression made my dream.

Brak. No marvel, Lord, that it affrighted you;
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Cla. Ah! Brakenbury, I have done those things,
That now give evidence against my soul,
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 misdeeds,


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Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :
O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children!
I proythee, Brakenbury, stay by me;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would neep.

Brak. I will, my Lord; God give your Grace good rest ! Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,

[ Afide, 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 name, There's nothing differs but the outward fame.


Enter the two Villains. Vil. Ho, who's here? Brak. In God's name, what art thou? how cam'ft thou hither?

2 Vil. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs.

Brak. What, so brief?

i Vil. 'Tis better, Sir, than to be tedious. Let him see our commission, and talk no more.

Brak. [Reads.] 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 lyes the Duke aleep, and there the keys, I'll to the King, and signify to him, That thus I have resign'd to you my charge. [Exit.

1 Vil. You may, Sir, 'tis a point of wisdom: fare you well.

2 Vol. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps ?

1 Vil. No; he'll say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes,

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