1 Vil.

Ho, who's there?

Brak.

In God's name, what art thou? how cam'st thou hither?

2 Vil.

I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs.

Brak.

What, so brief?

1 Vil.

'Tis better, Sir, than to be tedious. Let him see our Commission, and talk no more.

Brak. [Reads.]
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.
There lyes the Duke asleep, and there the key.s
I'll to the King, and signify to him,
That thus I have resign'd to you my Charge. [Exit.

1 Vil.

You may, Sir, 'tis a point of wisdom: fare you well.

2 Vil.

What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?

1 Vil.

No; he'll say, 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.

2 Vil.

When he wakes! why, Fool, he shall never wake until the great Judgment-day.

1 Vil.

Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd him sleeping.

2 Vil.

The urging of that word, Judgment, hath bred a kind of remorse in me.

1 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 Glo'ster, and tell him so.

2 Vil.

Nay, 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 Vil.

How dost thou feel thyself now?

2 Vil.

Faith, some certain dregs of conscience 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'ster's purse.

1 Vil.

When he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flyes 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 swear, but it checks him; a man cannot lye with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing shame-fac'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 turned out of 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 Vil.

'Tis even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the Duke.

2 Vil.

^{5 note}Take the devil in thy mind, and believe it not: it would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh.

1 Vil.

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

2 Vil.

Spoke like a tall fellow, that respects his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work?

1 Vil.

Take him over the costard, with the hilt of thy sword; and then throw him into the malmsie-butt, in the next room.

2 Vil.

O excellent device, and make a sop of him.

1 Vil.

Soft, he wakes. Shall I strike?

2 Vil.

No, we'll reason with him.

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

2 Vil.

You shall 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 dost thou speak?
Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale?
Who sent you hither? wherefore do you come?

Both.
To, to, to—

Clar.
To murther me?

Both.
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 Vil.
Offended us you have not, but the King.

Clar.
I shall 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 slay the innocent? what's my offence?
Where is the evidence, that doth accuse me?
What lawful Quest have giv'n 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,
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 vassals! the great King of Kings
Hath in the Table of his Law commanded,
That thou shalt do no Murther; will you 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 Vil.
And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee
For false forswearing, and for murther too:
Thou didst receive the Sacrament, to fight
In Quarrel of the House of Lancaster.

1 Vil.
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 Vil.
Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend.

1 Vil.
How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us,
When thou hast broke it in such high degree?

Clar.
Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake.
He sends you not to murther me for this:
For in that sin 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 those that have offended him.

1 Vil.
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 Vil.
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,
And I will send you to my brother Glo'ster,

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'ster hates you.

Clar.
Oh, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear:
Go you to him from me.

Both.
Ay, so we will.

Clar.
Tell him, when that our Princely father York
Blest his three sons with his victorious arm,
^{6 note}And charg'd us from his soul to love each other,
He little thought of this divided friendship:
Bid Glo'ster think on this, and he will weep.

1 Vil.
Ay, mill-stones; as he lesson'd us to weep.

Clar.
O do not slander him, for he is kind.

1 Vil.
As snow in harvest:—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 Vil.
Why, so 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 soul,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And are you yet to your own souls so blind,
That you will war with God, by murd'ring me?
O Sirs, consider they, that set you on
To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.

2 Vil.
What shall we do?

Clar.
Relent, ^{7 note}and save your souls.
Which of you, if you were a Prince's son,

Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
If two such murtherers, as your selves, came to you,
Would not intreat for life? ah! you would beg,
Were you in my distress—

1 Vil.
Relent? 'tis cowardly and womanish.

Clar.
Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish.
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks:
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
Come thou on my side, and intreat for me.
A begging Prince what Beggar pities not?

2 Vil.
Look behind you, my lord.

1 Vil.
Take that, and that; if all this will not do, [Stabs him.
I'll drown you in the malmsie-butt within. [Exit.

2 Vil.
A bloody deed, and desp'rately dispatch'd:
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous guilty murther done! Re-enter first Villain.

1 Vil.
How now? what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not?
By heav'n, the Duke shall know how slack you've been.

2 Vil.
I would he knew, that I had sav'd his brother!
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
For I repent me, that the Duke is slain. [Exit.

1 Vil.
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 must away;
For this will out, and then I must not stay. [Exit.

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