Our Airy buildeth in the cedar's top,

And dallies with the wind, and fcorns the fun.

Q. Mar. And turns the fun to fhade ;-alas! alas!
Witness my fon, now in the fhade of death;
Whose bright out-fhining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darknefs folded up.

Your Airy buildeth in our Airy's neft;"
O God, that feest it, do not suffer it :
As it was won with blood, fo be it lot!

Buck. Peace, peace, for fhame, if not for charity.
Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor fhame to me;
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,

And fhamefully my hopes, by you, are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my fhame,
And in my fhame ftill live my forrows rage!
Buck. Have done, have done.

Q. Mar. O Princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy hand, In fign of league and amity with thee:

Now fair befall thee, and thy noble House!
Thy garments are not fpotted with our blood;
Nor thou within the compafs of my curfe.

Buck. Nor no one here; for curfes never pass
The lips of thofe that breathe them in the air.
Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they afcend the sky,
And there awake God's gentle-fleeping peace.
O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog;

Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites,
His venom-tooth will rankle to the death;
Have not to do with him, beware of him, co
Sin, death, and hell, have fet their marks upon him;
And all their ministers attend on him.

Glo. What doth fhe fay, my Lord of Buckingham?
Buck. Nothing that I refpect, my gracious Lord..
Q. Mar. What doft thou fcorn me for my gentle
counfel?

And footh the devil, that I warn thee from?
O, but remember this another day,

When he shall split thy very heart with forrow;
And fay, poor Margret was a Prophetefs.
Live each of you the fubject to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's!
Buck. My hair doth stand on

end

to

[Exit.

hear her curses. Riv.

Riv. And fo doth mine: I wonder fhe's at liberty.
Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy Mother;
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent
My part thereof, that I have done to her.
Dorf. I never did her any to my knowledge.
Glo. Yet you have all the 'vantage of her wrong:
I was too hot to do fomebody good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, for Clarence, he is well repay'd;
He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains, (1)
God pardon them, that are the cause thereof!

Ri. A virtuous and a Chriftian-like conclufion,
To pray for them, that have done scathe to us.
Glo. So did I ever, being well advis'd;
For had I curft now, I had curft myself.

Enter Catesby.

[Afide.

Catef. Madam, his Majefty doth call for you, And for your Grace, and you, my noble Lord. Queen. Catesby, we come; Lords, will you go with

us s

Riv. Madam, we will attend your Grace.

[Exeunt all but Gloucefter. Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The fecret mischiefs, that I fet a-broach, I lay unto the grievous charge of others Clarence, whom I indeed have laid in darkness, I do beweep to many fimple gulls, wobler Namely to Stanley, Haftings, Buckingham; And tell them 'tis the Queen, and her allies, That ftir the King a against the Duke my brother. Now they believe it, and withal whet me To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorfet, Gray.

(1) He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains.] A Frank is an old English word for a hog-fty. Tis poffible he uses this metaphor to Clarence, in allufion to the creft of the family of York, which was a Boar. Whereto relate thofe old famous verses on Richard III.

The cat, the rat, and Lovel the dog, toy

Rule all England under a hog. He uses the fame metaphor in the laft fcence of act 4.

POPE.

But

But then I figh, and with a Piece of Scripture,
Tell them, that God bids us do good for evil :
And thus I clothe my naked villainy

With old odd ends, ftol'n forth of holy Writ,
And feem a Saint, when moft I play the Devil.

Enter two Murtherers.

But foft, here come my executioners.
How now, my handy, ftout, refolved mates,
Are you now going to difpatch this Deed?

1 Vil. We are, my Lord, and come to have the Warrant,

That we may be admitted where he is.

Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about me: When you have done, repair to Crosby-place. But, Sirs, be fudden in the execution, Withal obdurate; do not hear him plead; For Clarence is well-fpoken, and, perhaps, May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. Vil. Fear not, my Lord, we will not ftand to prate Talkers are no good doers; be affur'd,

We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.

Glo. Your eyes drop mill-ftones, when fools' eyes drop tears,

I like you lads-about your bufinefs-go.

SCENE V.

Changes to the Tower.

[Exeunt;

Brak. Why looks your Grace fo heavily to day?
Clar. O, I have paft a miferable night,

So full of ugly fights, of ghaftly dreams,
That, as I am a Chriftian faithful man, (2)
I would not spend another fuch a night,

(2) Faithful man.] Not an infidel.
B 3

Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days;
So full of difmal terror was the time.

Bark. What was your dream, my Lord? I pray
you, tell me.

Cla. Methought, that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy,

And in my company my brother Glofter,
Who, from my cabin, tempted me to walk
Upon the Hatches. Thence we look'd tow'rd England,
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 Glo'fter ftumbled; and in falling
Struck me, that fought 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 waters in my ears!
What fights of ugly death within mine eyes!
I thought, I faw a thoufand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fifhes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Ineftimable stones, unvalued jewels.

Some lay in dead men's fkulls; 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, (2)
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 Secrets 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 find 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. No, no, my dream was length'ned after life;

O then began the tempeft to my foul.

I pafs'd, methought, the melancholy flood,

With that grim ferry-man, which Poets write of,

(2)That woo'd the fimy bottom.-] By feeming to gaze upon it.

Unto

Unto the Kingdom of perpetual Night.
The first that there did greet my ftranger 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 fo he vanifh'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, falfe, fleeting, (3) perjur'd Clarence,
That stabb'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 noife
I, trembling, wak'd; and for a feafon 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 thofe 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, (4)
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds,

Yet execute thy wrath on me alone:

O, fpare my guiltlefs wife, and my poor children!
-I pr'ythee, Brakenbury, ftay by me;

My foul is heavy, and I fain would fleep.

reft!

Brak. I will, my Lord: God give your Grace good. [Clarence fleeps. Sorrow breaks feafons and repofing hours, (5) Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night, Princes have but their titles for their glories, (6)

(3) Fleeting is the fame as changing fides. (4) O God! if my deep prayers, &c.] The four following lines have been added fince the first edition.

(5) 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 teem to me a reflection naturally refulting from the foregoing converfation, and therefore continued to be fpoken by the fame perfon, as it is accordingly in the first edition.

(6) Princes have but their titles for their glories, B. 4.