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? 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 dangerous 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 shamefac'd 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 turn'd 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 malmseybutt, 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? 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? Both Murd. To, to, to,— 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 reconcil'd 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? To threaten me with death, is most unlawful. 1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon command. 2 Murd. And he, that hath commanded, is our king. Clar. Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings 2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee, For false forswearing, and for murder too: 1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God, Didst break that vow; and, with thy treacherous blade, Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. 2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend. 1 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; 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 hir'd for meed, go back again, 2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloster 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, Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep. 1 Murd. Ay, mill-stones; 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 must 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, |