Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches. Thence we look'd toward Eng-
land,

And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befal'n us. As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought, that Glofter ftumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that sought to stay him, over-board,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.

Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noife of water in mine ears!
What fights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Methought, I faw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men that fifhes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Ineftimable ftones, unvalued jewels,

All fcatter'd in the bottom of the fea.

Some lay in dead mens' skulls; and, in thofe holes,
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
(As 'twere in fcorn of eyes) reflecting gems,
That woo'd the flimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Brak. Had you fuch leifure in the time of death,
To gaze upon the fecrets of the deep?

Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I ftrive
To yield the ghoft: but ftill the envious flood,
Kept in my foul, and would not let it forth
To feek the empty, vaft, and wand'ring air
But fmother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almoft burft to belch it in the fea.
Brak. Awak'd you not with this fore agony?
Clar. O no, my dream was length'ned after life;
O, then began the tempeft to my foul!

•That woo'd the flimy bottom] By feeming to gaze upon it; or, as we now fay, to ogle it. JOHNSON.

I pafs'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 foul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Who cry'd aloud,-What fcourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford falfe Clarence?
And to he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by
A fhadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood; and he fhriek'd out aloud,-
Clarence is come, false, "fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,
That ftabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury ;—
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments!
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Inviron'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 impreffion made my dream.
Brak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you;
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clar. Ah! Brakenbury, I have done these things,-
That now give evidence against my foul,-
For Edward's fake, and, fee, how he requites me!
O God! if my deep prayers cannot appeafe thee,
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone :

O, spare my guiltlefs wife, and my poor children!
-I pray thee, gentle keeper, ftay by me:

My foul is heavy, and I fain would fleep.

Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace good [Clarence fleeps.

reft!

fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,] Fleeting is the fame as changing fides. JOHNSON.

8

O God! if my deep prayers, &c.] The four following lines have been added fince the first edition. POPE.

Sorrow

Sorrow breaks feasons and repofing 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 Vil. Ho, who's here?

Brak. What would'st thou, fellow? and 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. O fir, 'tis better to be brief, than tedious.Shew him our commiffion, 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,

9 Sorrow breaks feafons, &c.] In the common editions, the keeper is made to hold the dialogue with Clarence till this line. And here Brakenbury enters, pronouncing thefe words; which feem to me a reflection naturally refulting from the foregoing converfation, and therefore continued to be fpoken by the fame person, as it is accordingly in the first edition. POPE.

'Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honor, for an inward toil;]

The first line may be understood in this fenfe, The glories of princes are nothing more ihan empty titles: but it would more imprefs the purpose of the speaker, and correfpond better with the following lines, if it were read,

Princes have but their titles for their troubles. JOHNSON." for unfelt imaginations,

They often feel a world of reftlefs cares :]

They often fuffer real miferies for imaginary and unreal gratifica

tions. JOHNSON.

Because I will be guiltless of the meaning.
Here are the keys;-there fits the duke asleep:
I'll to the king; and fignify to him,

That thus I have refign'd to you my charge.

1-Vil. You may, fir; 'tis a point of wisdom. Fare you well. [Exit Brakenbury. 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 sleeping.

2 Vil. The urging of that word, judgment, hath bred a kind of remorfe in me.

I Vil. What? art thou afraid?

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 compaffionate humour of mine will change; it was wont to hold me but while one would tell twenty. 1 Vil. How doft thou feel thyself now?

2 Vil. Faith, fome certain dregs of confcience are yet within me.

1 Vil. Remember our reward, when the deed's done,
2 Vil. Come, he dies. I had forgot the reward.
I Vil. Where's thy confcience now?

2 Vil. In the duke of Glofter's purfe.

1 Vil. When he opens his purfe to give us our reward, thy confcience 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?

e Vil. I'll not meddie with it, it is a dangerous

thing, it makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it accufeth 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 bofom: 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 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,

me.

1 Vil. I am strong fram'd, he cannot prevail with

2 Vil. 4 Spoke like a tall fellow that refpects his reputation. Come, fhall we fall to work?

1 Vil. Take him over the costard, with the hilt of thy fword, and then throw him into the malmfeybutt, in the next room.

2 Vil. O excellent device! and make a fop of him. 1 Vil. Soft, he wakes. Shall I strike?

2 Vil. No, we'll reafon with him.

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

wine.

3 Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not: he would irfi nuate with thee, &c.] One villain fays, Confcinece is at his elbows, perfuading him not to kill the duke. The other fays, take the devil into thy nearer acquaintance, into thy mind, who will be a match for thy confcience, and believe it not, &c. It is plain then, that him in both places in the text fhould be it, namely, confcience. WARBURTON.

Shakespeare fo frequently ufes both thefe pronouns indifcriminately, that no correction is neceffary. STEEVENS.

Spoke like a tall fellow] The meaning of tall, in old English, is ftout, daring, fearless, and ftrong. JOHNSON.

we'll reason-] We'll talk. JOHNSON.

D 4

2 Vil.