And in my fhame ftill live my forrow's rage! Q. Mar. O Princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand, Buck. Nor no one here; for curfes never pafs Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he bites, Have not to do with him, beware of him, Sin, death, and hell, have fet their marks upon him; Glo. What doth the fay, my Lord of Buckingham? Buck. Nothing that I refpect, 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 forrow; [Exit. Buck. My hair doth ftand on end to hear her curfes. I was too hot to do fome body good, God pardon them, that are the cause thereof! Riv. A virtuous and a christian-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 curft myself. Enter Catesby. Catef. Madam, his Majefty doth call for you, And for your Grace, and you, my noble Lord. [Afide. Queen. Catesby, we come; Lords, will you go with us? Riv. Madam, we will attend your Grace. [Exeunt all but Glocefter. Namely to Stanley, Haftings, Buckingham; With old odd ends, ftol'n forth of holy writ, But foft, here come my executioners. 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 sudden in the execution, Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; 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. Glo. Glo. Your eyes drop mill-ftones, when fools eyes drop tears. I like you, lads; about your business; go. Brak. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Tower. W Enter Clarence and Brakenbury. 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 crofs to Burgundy, And in my company my brother Glo'fter; Upon the hatches. Thence we look'd tow'rd England, Methought, that Glo'fter ftumbled; and in falling Lord, Lord, methought, what pain it was to drown! Some lay in dead men's fkulls; and in those holes, Brak. To Brak. Had you fuch leisure in the time of death, gaze upon the fecrets of the deep? Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I strive I paft, methought, the melancholy flood, The first that there did greet my stranger foul, Brak. No marvel, Lord, that it affrighted you; Clar. Ah! Brakenbury, I have done those things, For Edward's fake; and, fee, how he requites me! Yet execute thy wrath on me alone : O, fpare my guiltlefs wife, and my poor children! K I 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 reft! Sorrow breaks feafons and repofing 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; They often feel a world of restless cares : Enter the two Murderers. 1 Vil. Ho, who's here ? Brak. In God's name, what art thou? how cam'st thou hither? 2 Vil. I would fpeak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. Brak. What, fo brief? 1 Vil. 'Tis better, Sir, than to be tedious. Let him fee our commiffion, and talk no more. Brak. [Reads] I am in this commanded, to deliver The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands. I will not reafon what is meant hereby, There lies the Duke afleep, and there the keys. That thus I have refign'd to you my charge. [Exit. 1 Vil. You may, Sir, 'tis a point of wifdom: fare you well. 2 Vil. What, fhall we ftab him as he fleeps? 1 Vil. No; he'll fay, 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. 2 Vil. When he wakes! why, fool, he fhall 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. |