Puslapio vaizdai

Richard's Hypocrisy.
(4) But then I figh, and with a piece of scripture,
Tell them, that God bids us do good for evil ;
And thus I cloath my naked villainy
Wih old odd ends, ftol'n forth of holy writ,
And seem a faint, when most I play the devil.

SCENE V. The Tower.

Clarence's Dream.

Clarence and Brakenbury. Brak. What was your dream, my lord ? I pray you

tell me. Clar. Methought that I had broken from the Tower; And was embark?d to cross to Burgundy, And in my company, my brother Glo'ster ; 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 stumbled ; 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 noise of waters in my ears ! What fights of ugly death within mine eyes ! I thought, I saw a thoufand fearful wrecks; A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ! Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Ineftimable ftones, unvalued jewels; Some lay in dead mens kulls; and in those holes,

(4) See Merchant of Venice, p: 60, 0, 5. and p. 54. preceding.


[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small]

Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 'twere in fcorn of eyes, reflecting gems;
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Brak. Had


such leisure in the time of death, To gaze upon the secrets of the deep ?

Clar. Methought, I had ; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost : but still the envious flood
Kept in my foul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring air ?
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almoft burst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awak'd you not with this sad agony

Clar. No, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life.
O then began the tempest to my soul :
I paft, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferry-man, 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 fcourge 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 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


noise 1, treinbling wak'd ; and for a season after Could not believe but that I was in hell: Such terrible impression made my dream.

[ocr errors]


Brak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you ; I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clar. Ah! Brakenbury, I have done those 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,
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!

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,
Makes night morning, and the noon.tide night.

Greatness, it's Cares. (5) Princes have but their titles for their glories, An outward honour, for an inward toil ; And, for unfelt imaginat ons, They often feel a world of endless cares : So that between their titles, and low name, There's nothing differs but the outward fame. Scene V. The Murtherers Account of Conscience. .

I'll not meddle with ; 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 blufhing 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 thac keeps it. It is turned out of towns and cities for a

(5) See pages 50, 51, &c. and the notes foregoing.

dangerous dangerous thing ; and every man that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it.



Ah ! that deceit should steal fuch gentle shape, And with a virtuous vizor hide deep vice!

Submission to Heaven, our Duty.
(6) In common worldly things 'tis call'd ungrateful
With dull unwillingness to pay a debt,
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent ;
Much more to be thus oppofi'e to heav'n ;,
For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]
[ocr errors]

(7) O monentary grace of mortal men,
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks,
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,
Ready with every nod to tumble down
Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

[merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors]

(6) In, &c.] This is spoken by the marquis of Dar set to the queen, when bewailing the loss of her husband Edward'Iv.

(7) 0, &c.] This possibly might have risen from the following lines in the listh Pfalm.

It is better to trust in the lord, than to put any confidence 'in man.

It is better to trust in the lord, than to put any confidence princes, &c. See too the zoth Pfalm.


[ocr errors]


When holy and devout religious men
Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence,
So sweet is zealous contemplation.

SCENE III. Description of the Murder of the two

young Princes in the Tower.

The tyrannous and bloody act is done ; The most arch-deed of piteous massacre, That ever yet this land was guilty of ! Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn To do this piece of ruthle's butchery, Albeit they were flesht villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, Wept like two children, in their death's sad story. O thus, (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle babes ; Thus, thus, (quoth Forrest,) girdling one another Within their innocent alabaster arms; Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, And in their summer beauty kiss'd each other, A book of prayer's on their pillow lay, Which once, (quoth Forrest) almost chang'd my

mind : But, oh! the Devil -- there the villain lopt: When Dighton thus told on--we smothered The most replenished sweet work of nature, That from the prime creation e'er the framed. Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse;

į. They could not speak, and so I left them both, To bear those tidings to the bloody king.




« AnkstesnisTęsti »