« PreviousContinue »
· 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,—Whut 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, perjur'd Clarence, That stabb'd me in the field by Tewkesbury ;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,
rest!- [Clar, reposes himself on a chuir.
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 te
dious :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,
i Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom : Fare you well.
[E.xit Brak. 2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps ?
i 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 judgement day.
1 Murd. Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd him sleeping.
2 Murd. The urging of that word, judgement, 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.
· 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 Gloster, 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.