2 Vil. 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.

1 Vil. I'll back to the Duke of Glofter, 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 could tell twenty.

1 Vil. How doft thou feel thy felf now?

2 Vil. Faith, fome 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 conscience 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 conscience 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 is a dangerous thing, 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 lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blufhing fhame-fac'd fpirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom: it fills one full of obstacles. It made me once reftore 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 ftrong 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 over the coftard, with the hilt of thy fword; and then throw him into the malmfey-but, 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.

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

1 Vil. A man, as you are.

Clar. But not, as I am, royal.

1 Vil. Nor you, as we are, loyal.

Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble, 1 Vil. My voice is now the King's, my

looks mine own. Clar. 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?

Both. To, to, to

Clar. To murder me?

Both. Ay, ay.

Clar. You fcarcely have the hearts to tell me fo! 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. Clar. I fhall be reconcil'd to him again.

2 Vil. Never, my Lord, therefore prepare to die. Clar. Are you call'd forth from out a world of men, To flay the innocent? What's my offence? Where is the evidence, that doth accufe me? What lawful queft haft giv'n their verdict up Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd The bitter fentence of poor Clarence' death? Before be convict by course of law,

1

To threaten me with death, is most unlawful.
I charge you, as you hope to have redemption,
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. Clar. Erroneous vaffals! the great King of Kings Hath in the table of his law commanded,

That thou shalt do no murder; will you then
Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's ?

Take

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 falfe forfwearing, and for murder too: Thou didst receive the facrament, to fight In quarrel of the houfe of Lancaster.

1 Vil. And, like a traitor to the name of God, Didft break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade, Unrip'dft the bowels of thy Sovereign's fon.

2 Vil. Whom thou wert fworn to cherish and defend. 1 Vil. How can't thou urge God's dreadful law to us, When thou haft broke it in fuch high degree?

Gtar. Alas! for whofe fake did I that if deed?
For Edward, for my brother, for his fake.
He fends you not to murder me for this:
For in that fin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avenged for the deed,
O, know you yet, he doth it publickly :
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm:
He needs no indirect, nor lawless course,
To cut off thofe 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?
Clar. 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.

Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not me: I am his brother, and I love him well.

If you are hir'd for meed, go back again, (8)

And

(8) If you are bir'd for need,-] I have chose to restore the word, which poffeffes all the old copies, meed; and as I have elsewhere obferv'd in these notes, it fignifies, with our author, both merit and the reward of merit. One of the murderers at the close of this fcene fays :

And when I have my meed, I must away.

And Glofter fays before in this act;

And for his meed, poor Lord, he is mew'd up.

In both which places it fignifies reward. I'll now fubjoin a paffage or two, in which it means merit.

K 3

3 Henry

And I will fend you to my brother Glofter,
Who will reward you better for my life
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.

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

Both. Ay, fo we will.

Clar. 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.
Clar. O do not flander him, for he is kind.
1 Vil. As fnow in harveft:-you deceive yourfelf
'Tis he, that fends us to deftroy you here.

Clar. It cannot be, for he bewept my fortune, And hug'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 must die, my Lord. Clar. 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 murd'ring 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?

Clar. Relent, and fave your fouls. Which of you, if you were a Prince's fon,

Being pent from liberty, as I am now,

If two fuch murderers, as yourselves, came to you,

That's not my fear, my meed hath got me fame.

And, Timon of Aibens ;

-no meed, but he repays

Sev'nfold above itself,

4

Would

Would not intreat for life? ah! you would beg,
Were you in my diftrefs.-

1 Vil. Relent? 'tis cowardly and womanish.
Clar. Not to relent, is beaftly, savage, 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.
A begging Prince what beggar pities not?
2 Vil. Look behind you, my Lord.

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

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

[Stabs him.

[Exit.

2 Vil. A bloody deed, and defp'rately difpatch'd: How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands Of this moft grievous guilty murder done!

Re-enter firft Villain.

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

By heav'n, the Duke shall 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.

[Exit.

1 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.

K 4

[Exit.