2 Vil. Why, he shall never wake until the great judgment-day.

1 Vil. Why then he'll fay we ftabb'd him fleeping. 2. Vil. The urging of that word judgment hath bred a kind of remorfe in me.

1 Vil. What?. art thou afraid?

2 Vil. Not to kill him, having a warrant: but to be damn'd for killing him, from the which no warrant can defend me.

1 Vil. I'll back to the Duke of Glo'fter, and tell him fo. 2 Vil. Nay, pr'ythee, ftay a little: I hope this holy humour of mine will change; it was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty.

1 Vil. How doft thou feel thy felf now?

2 Vil. Some certain dregs of confcience are yet within me. 1 Vil. Remember the reward, when the deed's done. 2 Vil. Come, he dies: I had forgot the reward.

1 Vil. Where's thy confcience now?

2 Vil. O, in the Duke of Glo'fter's purfe.

1 Vil. When he opens his purfe to give us our reward, thy confcience flies out.

2 Vil. 'Tis no matter, let it go; there's few or none will entertain it.

1 Vil. What if it come to thee again?

2 Vil. I'll not meddle with it, it makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot fwear, but it checks him; a man cannot lye with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing fhame-fac'd fpirit, that mutinies in a man's bofom: it fills one full of obftacles. It made me once restore a purfe of gold, that by chance I found. It beggars any man that keeps it. It is turn'd out of towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well, endeavours to truft to himself, and live without it.

1 Vil. 'Tis even now at my elbow, perfuading me not to kill the Duke.

2 Vil. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not: he would infinuate with thee but to make thee figh.

1 Vil. I am strong fram'd, he cannot prevail with me. 2 Vil. Spoke like a tall fellow, that refpects his reputation. Come, fhall we fall to work?

1 Vil. Take him on the coftard, with the hilt of thy fword, and then throw him into the malmfey-butt in the

next room.

2 Vil. O excellent device, and make a fop of him. 1 Vil. Soft, he wakes. Shall I ftrike?

2 Vil. No, we'll reason with him.

Cla. Where art thou, Keeper? give me a cup of wine. 2 Vil. You fhall have wine enough, my Lord, anon. Cla. In God's name, what art thou?

1 Vil. A man, as you are.

Cla. But not as I am, royal.

1 Vil. Nor you as we are, loyal.

Cla. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. 1 Vil. My voice is now the King's, my looks mine own. Cla. How darkly, and how deadly doft thou speak! Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale? Who fent you hither? wherefore do you come? 2 Vil. To, to, to

Cla. To murther me?
Both. Ay, ay.

Cla. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?

1 Vil. Offended us you have not, but the King.
Cla. I fhall be reconcil'd to him again.

2 Vil. Never, my Lord, therefore prepare to die.
Cla. Are you drawn forth among a world of men,
To lay the innocent? what's my offence?
Where is the evidence that doth accufe me?
What lawful queft have giv'n their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge; or who pronounc'd
The bitter fentence of poor Clarence' death?
Before I be convict by courfe of law,

To threaten me with death is moft unlawful.
I charge you, as you hope to have redemption,

That

That you depart, and lay no hands on me :
The deed you undertake is damnable.

1 Vil. What we will do, we do upon command,
2 Vil. And he that hath commanded, is our King.
Cla. Erroneous vaffals! the great King of Kings
Hath in the table of his law commanded,
That thou shalt do no murther; 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.

2 Vil. And that fame vengeance doth he hurl on thee For false forfwearing, and for murther too: Thou didst receive the facrament, to fight. In quarrel of the houfe of Lancaster.

i Vil. And, like a traitor to the name of God, Didft break that vow, and with thy treach'rous blade. Unripp'dft the bowels of thy Sovereign's fon.

2 Vil. Whom thou wert fworn to cherish and defend. 1 Vil. How canft thou urge God's dreadful law to us, When thou haft broke it in fuch high degree?

Cla. Alas! for whofe fake did I that ill deed?
For Edward, for my brother, for his fake.
He fends you not to murther me for this;
For in that fin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avenged for the deed, a
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm
He needs no indirect, or lawless course,
To cut off those that have offended him.

1 Vil. Who made thee then a bloody minifter,
When gallant-fpringing brave Plantagenet,
That Princely novice, was ftruck dead by thee?
Cla. My brother's love, the devil, and my rage.
1 Vil. Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault,
Provoke us hither now, to flaughter thee.

Cla. If you do love my brother, hate not me:

O know you yet, he doth it publickly,
Take not, &c.

I am

This line interpolated fince the first edition. Pope.

I am his brother, and I love him well.

If

you are hir'd for meed, go back again, And I will fend you to my brother Glo'fter: Who will reward you better for my life, Than Edward will for tidings of my death.

2 Vil. You are deceiv'd, your brother Glofter hates Cla. Oh, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear: Go you to him from me.

1 Vil. Ay, fo we will.

Cla. Tell him, when that our Princely father York
Bleft his three fons with his victorious arm,
And charg'd us from his foul to love each other,
He little thought of this divided friendship:
Bid Glo'fter think on this, and he will weep.
1 Vil. Ay, mill-ftones; as he leffon'd us to weep.
Cla. O do not flander him, for he is kind.

you.

I Vil. As fnow in harvest: you deceive your felf, 'Tis he that fends us to deftroy you here.

Cla. It cannot be,, for he bewept my forturne, And-hugg'd me in his arms, and fwore with fobs, That he would labour my delivery.

1 Vil. Why, fo he doth, when he delivers you From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heav'n. 2 Vil. Make peace with God, for you muft die, my Lord. Cla. Have you that holy feeling in your foul, To counfel me to make my peace with God, And are you yet to your own fouls fo blind, That you will war with God, by mur'dring me? O Sirs, confider, they that fet you on

To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.

2 Vil. What fhall we do?

Cla. Relent, and fave your fouls,

Being pent from liberty, as I am now,

a

If two fuch murtherers as your felves came to you,

Would not intreat for life? as you would beg

1 Vil.

Were you in my distress

Thefe lines are not in the old edition.

Pope.

1 Vil. Relent? .

1 Vil. Relent? 'tis cowardly and womanish.
Cla. Not to relent, is beaftly, favage, devilish.
My friend, I spy fome pity in thy looks:
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,

Come thou on my fide, and intreat for me.

1 Vil. Take that, and that; if all this will not do,

I'll drown you in the malmfey-butt within.

[Stabs bim. [Exit.

2 Vil. A bloody deed, and defp'rately dispatch'd: How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands Of this most grievous murther!

Re-enter firft Villain.

1 Vil. How now? what mean'ft thou that thou help'st me not?

By heav'n, the Duke fhall know how flack you've been. 2 Vil. I would he knew, that I had fav'd his brother! Take thou the fee, and tell him what I fay,

For I repent me that the Duke is flain.

I Vil. So do not I; go coward as thou art.
Well, I'll go hide the body in fome hole,
'Till that the Duke give order for his burial:
And when I have my meed, I must away;
For this will out, and then I must not stay.

[Exit.

[Exit.

ACT