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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, -What 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,

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But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :
O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children!
I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace good

rest!- [Clar, reposes himself on a chair.
Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours,
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night,
Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honour for an inward toil;
And, for unfelt imaginations,
They often feel a world of restless cares:
So that, between their titles, and low name,
There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

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,
Because I will be guiltless of the meaning.
Here are the keys ;—there sits the duke asleep :
I'll to the king; and signify to him,
That thus I have resign'd to you my charge.

1 Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom : Fare you well.

[Erit Brak. 2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps ?

1 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.

1 Murd. I thought thou had'st been resolute. 2 Murd. So I am, to let him live. i 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.

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