The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare

1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the deed's done.

2 Murd. Come, he dies; I had forgot the reward.

1 Murd. Where's thy conscience now 7 2 Murd. In the duke of Gloster's purse. 1 Murd. So, when he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out.

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

1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again? 2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a danger ous thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but it checks him; a man cannot lie with! his neighbour's wife, but it detects him: "Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold, that by chance I found: it beggars any man that keeps it it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it.

1 Murd. 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke.

2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not: he would insinuate with thee, but to make thee sigh.

1 Murd. I am strong-fram'd, he cannot prevail with me.

2 Murd. Spoke like a tall fellow, that respects his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work? 1 Murd. Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmsey butt, in the next room.

2 Murd. O excellent device! and make a sop of him.

1 Murd. Soft! he wakes.

2 Murd. Strike.

1 Murd. No, we'll reason with him.

Clar. Where art thou, keeper 7 give me a cup of wine.

1 Murd. You shall have wine enough, my lord,

anon.

Clar. In God's name, what art thou ?

1 Murd. A man, as you are.

Clar. But not as I am, royal.

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

Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.

1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own.

Clar. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou speak!

Your eyes do menace me-Why look you pale?

Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
Both Murd. To, to, to,
Clar. To murder me?
Both Murd. Ay, ay.

Clar. 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 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the king.

Clar. I shall be reconciled to him again. 2 Murd. Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die.

Clar. Are you call'd forth from out a world

of men,

To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
Where is the evidence that doth accuse me?
What lawful quest have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death?
Before I be convict by course of law,
To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
I charge you, as you hope to have redemption
By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
That you depart, and lay no hands on me;
The deed you undertake is damnable.

1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon com mand.

2 Murd. And he, that hath commanded is our king.

Clar. Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings

Hath in the table of his law commanded, That thou shalt do no murder; Wilt thou 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 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee,

For false forswearing, and for murder too: Thou didst receive the sacrament, to fight In quarrel of the house of Lancaster. 1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God Didst break that vow; and, with thy treacherou blade, Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. 2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend.

Murd. How canst thou urge God's dreadful
law to us,

When thou hast broke it in such dear degree?
Clar. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake:
He sends you not to murder me for this;
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avenged for the deed,
O, know you, that he doth it publickly;
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;
He needs no indirect nor lawless course,
To cut off those that have offended him.

1 Murd. Who made thee then a bloody minister,

When gallant springing, brave Plantagenet, That princely novice, was struck dead by thee? Clar. My brother's love, the devil, and my

rage.

1 Murd. Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault,

Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.
Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not me
I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you are hired for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloster,
Who shall reward you better for my life,
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother Glo
ter hates you.
Clar. O, no; he loves me, and he holds me
dear:
Go you to him from me.
Both Murd.

Ay, so we will.
Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father
York

Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, And charg'd us from his soul to love each other, He little thought of this divided friendship: Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep. 1 Murd. Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep.

Clar. O, do not slander him, for he is kind.
1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest.-Come,
you deceive yourself;

"Tis he that sends us to destroy you here.
Clar. It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune,
And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
That he would labour my delivery.

1 Murd. Why, so he doth; when he delivers you From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. 2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you musi

die, my lord.

Clar. Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
That thou wilt war with God, by murd'ring
me?-

Ah, sirs, consider, he, that set you on
To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.
2 Murd. What shall we do 7

Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
Being pent from liberty, as I am now,

If two such murderers as yourselves came to Upon your grace, [To the Queen,] but with all you,

Would not entreat for life 7

My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks;
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,

Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
As you would beg, were you in my distress.
A begging prince what beggar pities not ?
2 Murd. Look behind you, my lord.
1 Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will not
do,
[Stabs him.
I'll drown you in the malmsey butt within.
[Exit, with the body.
2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately de-
spatch'd!

How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous guilty murder done!

Re-enter first Murderer.

1 Murd. How now ? what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not?

By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you

have been.

2 Murd. I would he knew, that I had saved his
brother!

Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
For I repent me that the duke is slain. Exit.
1 Murd. So do not I; go, coward, as thou art.-
Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole,
Till that the duke give order for his burial;
And when I have my meed, I will away;
For this will out, and then I must not stay.

ACT II.

[Exit.

SCENE 1. London. A Room in the Palace.
Enter King Edward, (led in sick,) Queen Eliza-
beth, Dorset, Rivers, Hastings, Buckingham,
Grey, and others.

duteous love

Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect inost love!
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assured that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me! this do I beg of heaven,
When I am cold in love, to you, or yours.
[Embracing Rivers, &c.

K. Edv. A pleasing cordial, princely Bucking-
ham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here,
To make the blessed period of this peace.
Buck. And, in good time, here comes the noble
duke.

Enter Gloster.

Glo. Good-morrow to my sovereign king, and
queen;

And, princely peers, a happy time of day!
K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the
day :-

Brother, we have done deeds of charity;
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
Glo. A blessed labour my most sovereign liege..
Among this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe;

If I unwittingly, or in my rage,

Have aught committed that is hardly borne
By any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
"Tis death to me, to be at enmity;

First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
I hate it, and desire all good men's love.-
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;
of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us :-
Of you, Lord Rivers,-and Lord Grey, of you,-

K. Edw. Why, so;-now have I done a good That all without desert have frown'd on me;

day's work;

You peers, continue this united league:

I every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer to redeem me hence;
And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven,
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.
Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand;
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.
Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudg-
ing hate;

And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.
Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like!
K. Edw. Take heed, you dally not before your
king;

Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings,
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award
Either of you to be the other's end.

Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!
Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!
K. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt in
this,-

Nor your son Dorset,-Buckingham, nor you;-
Yon have been factious one against the other.
Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand;
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

Q. Eliz There, Hastings;-I will never more
remember

Our former hatred, so thrive I, and mine!
K. Edw. Dorset, embrace him,-Hastings, love
lord marquis.

Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest,
Upon my part shall be inviolable.
Hast. And so swear I. [Embraces Dorset.

Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen: indeed, of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive,
With whom my soul is any jot at odds,
More than the infant that is born to night:
I thank my God for my humility.

Q. Eliz. A holy-day shall this be kept here
after:-

I would to God, all strifes were well compound-
ed.-

My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.
Glo. Why, madam, have I offered love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead?
[They all start.

You do him injury to scorn his corse.
K. Edw. Who knows not he is dead? who
knows he is?

Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this!
Buck. Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?
Dor. Ay, my good lord; and no man in the

Enter Stanley.

Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!

K. Edw. I pr'ythee, peace; my soul is full of

sorrow.

Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness hear

me.

Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:

Incapable and shallow innocents,

You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death.
Son. Grandam, we can for my good uncle
Gloster

Told me, the king, provok'd to't by the queen,

K. Edw. Then say at once, what is it thou re-Devis'd impeachments to imprison him:"

quest'st.

Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;

Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman,
Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk.

K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death,

And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?
My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who sued to me for him? who, in my wrath,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd?
Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
When Oxford had me down, he rescued me,
And said, Dear brother, live, and be a king?
Who told me, when we both lay in the field,
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
Even in his garments; and did give himself,
All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night?
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
But when your carters, or your waiting-vassals,
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for pardon,
pardon;

And I, unjustly too, must grant it you :-
But for my brother, not a man would speak,-
Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself
For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
Have been beholden to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once plead for his life.
O God! I fear, thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this.
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. 0,
Poor Clarence!

[Exeunt King, Queen, Hastings, Rivers,
Dorset, and Grey.

Glo. This is the fruit of rashness !-Mark'd you not,

How that the guilty kindred of the queen Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death?

O! they did urge it still unto the king:
God will revenge it. Come, lords; will you go,
To comfort Edward with our company
Buck. We wait upon your grace. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. The same.

Enter the Duchess of York, with a Son and
Daughter of Clarence.

Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead?
Duch. No, boy.

Daugh. Why do you weep so oft ? and beat
your breast;

And ery-O Clarence, my unhappy son!
Son. Why do you look on us and shake your

head,

And call us-orphans, wretches, cast-aways,
If that our noble father be alive?

Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both;
I do lament the sickness of the king,
As loath to lose him, not your father's death:
It were lost sorrow, to wail one that's lost.
Son. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is

dead.

The king my uncle is to blame for this: God will revenge it; whom I will importune With earnest prayers all to that effect. Daugh. And so will I.

And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
Bade me rely on him, as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as his child.
Duch. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle
shapes,

And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice!
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame,
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.
Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble,
grandam

Duch. Ay, boy.

Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this?

Enter Queen Elizabeth, distractedly; Rivers, and Dorset, following her.

Q. Eliz. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and weep?

To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
I'll join with black despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy.

Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience?

Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragick violence:Edward, iny lord, thy son, our king, is dead. Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? Why wither not the leaves, that want their sap7If you will live, lament; if die, be brief; That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; Or, like obedient subjects, follow him To his new kingdom of perpetual rest.

Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow,
As I had title in thy noble husband!

I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And liv'd by looking on his images:
But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death;,
And I for comfort have but one false glass,
That grieves me when I see my shame in him.
Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother,
And hast the comfort of thy children left thee:
But death hath snatch'd my husband from my
arms,

And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause have I
(Thine being but a moiety of my grief,)
To overgo thy plaints, and drown thy cries!
Son. Ah, aunt! you wept not for our father's

death;

How can we aid you with our kindred tears? Daugh. Our fatherless distress was left un moan'd,

Your widow dolour likewise be unwept!

Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation, I am not barren to bring forth laments: All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I, being govern'd by the wat'ry moon, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world;

Ah, for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward! Chil. Ah, for our father, for our dear Lord

Clarence!

Duch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!

Q. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward? and he's gone.

Chil. What stay had we, but Clarence? and he's gone.

Duch. What stays had I, but they? and they

are gone.

Q. 'Eliz. Was never widow, had so dear a loss. Chil. Were never orphans, had so dear a loss. Duch. Was never mother, had so dear a loss. Alas, I am the mother of these griefs;

Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I;
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:"
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I:
I for an Edward weep, so do not they :-
Alas! you three, on me threefold distress'd,
Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentations.

Dor. Comfort, dear mother: God is much dis-
pleas'd,

That you take with unthankfulness his doing;
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd--ungrateful,
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt,
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent;
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mo-
ther,

Of the young prince your son: send straight for
him,

Let him be crown'd: in him your comfort lives:
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.
Enter Gloster, Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings,
Ratcliff, and others.

Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star;
But none can cure their harms by wailing them.-|
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy,

I did not see your grace:-Humbly on my knee
I crave your blessing.

Duch. God bless thee; and put meekness in thy
breast,

Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!
Glo. Amen; and make me die a good old

man!

That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing;

Aside.

I marvel, that her grace did leave it out.
Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart sorrow-
ing peers,

That bear this mutual heavy load of moan,
Now cheer each other in each other's love:
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts,
But lately splinted, knit, and joined together,
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept:
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be

fetch'd

Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.
Riv. Why with some little train, my lord of
Buckingham?

Buck. Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude,
The new heal'd wound of malice should break

out;

Which would be so much the more dangerous,
By how much the estate is green and yet un-

govern'd:

Where every horse bears his commanding rein,
And may direct his course as please himself,
As well the fear of harm, as harın apparent,
In my opinion, ought to be prevented.
Glo. I hope, the king made peace with all of us;
And the compact is firm, and true, in me.

Riv. And so in me; and so, I think, in all :
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put
To no apparent likelihood of breach,
Which, haply, by much company might be urg'd:
Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham,
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.
Hast. And so say I.

Glo. Then be it so; and go we to determine
Who they shall be that straight shall post to
Ludlow.

Madam, and you my mother, will you go
To give your censures in this weighty business?

[Exeunt all but Buckingham and Gloster. Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the prince, For God's sake, let not us two stay at hoine:

For, by the way, I'll sort occasion,
As index to the story we late talk'd of,
To part the queen's proud kindred from the
prince.

Glo. My other self, my counsel's consistory,
My oracle, my prophet!-My dear cousin,
I, as a child, will go by thy direction,
Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind.
Exeunt.

SCENE III. The same. A Street.
Enter two Citizens, meeting.

1 Cit. Good morrow, neighbour: Whither
away so fast?

2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely know myself:
Hear you the news abroad?
1 Cit.

Yes; the king's dead. 2 Cit. Il news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better:

I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world.
Enter another Citizen.

3 Cit. Neighbours, God speed!

1 Cit.

Give you good morrow, sir. 3 Cit. Doth the news hold of good King Ed

ward's death?

God wot;

For then this land was famously enrich'd
With politick grave counsel; then the king
Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.

1 Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father
and mother.

3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his father; Or, by his father there were none at all: For emulation now, who shall be nearest, 0, full of danger is the duke of Gloster; Will touch us all too near, if God prevent it not. And the queen's sons, and brothers, haught and And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule, proud: This sickly land might solace as before.

1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst: all will

be well.

3 Cit. When clouds are seen, wise men put on
their cloaks;

When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand;
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth:
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
All may be well; but, if God sort it so,
'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.

You cannot reason almost with a man
2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear:
That looks not heavily, and full of dread.
3 Cit. Before the days of change, still is it so:
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust
The water swell before a boist'rous storm.
Ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see
But leave it all to God. Whither away?
2 Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices.
3 Cit. And so was I; I'll bear you company.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the Palace.
Enter the Archbishop of York, the young Duke of
York, Queen Elizabeth, and the Duchess of
York.

Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony-
Stratford;

Duch. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did not hold

In him that did object the same to thee:

SCENE I. London. A Street

He was the wretched'st thing, when he was The Trumpets sound. Enter the Prince of

young:

So long a growing, and so leisurely,

That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious. Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam.

Duch. I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt. York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd,

I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd

Mess.

Gloster and Buckingham.

Q. Eliz.

The mighty dukes,

For what offence?

Wales, Gloster, Buckingham, Cardinal Bouchier, and others.

Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.

Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign:

The weary way hath made you melancholy.
Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy;
I want more uncles here to welcome me.
Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your

years

Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit :
No more can you distinguish of a man,
Than of his outward show; which, God he
knows,

Seldom, or never, jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous;
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts:
God keep you from them, and from such false
friends!

Prince. God keep me from false friends! but they were none.

Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.

Enter the Lord Mayor, and his train. May. God bless your grace with health and happy days! Prince. I thank you, good my lord-and

thank you all.- [Exeunt Mayor, &c. I thought, my mother, and my brother York, Would long ere this have met us on the way; Fie, what a slug is Hastings! that he comes not To tell us whether they would come, or no. Enter Hastings.

Buck. And in good time, here comes the sweat. ing lord

Prince. Welcome, my lord: What, will our mother come?

Hast. On what occasion, God he knows, not I, The queen your mother, and your brother York, Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd; Have taken sanctuary: The tender prince Why, or for what, the nobles were committed,Would fain have come with me to meet your

Is all unknown to me, my gracions lady.

Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house! The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind; Insulting tyranny begins to jut

Upon the innocent and awless throne :Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre! I see, as in a map, the end of all.

Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days! How many of you have mine eyes beheld? My husband lost his life to get the crown; And often up and down my sons were tost,

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