Imatges de pÓgina
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Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy: [Tower, And, in my company, my brother Gloster; Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England, And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, Into the tumbling billows of the main. O Lord! methought what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of water in mine ears! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where

eyes

did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn 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

you

such leisure in the time of death, To gaze upon these 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 soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air:
But smother'd it within my panting bulk*,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony?

Body.

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Clar. O no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; O, then began the tempest to my soul! I pass'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 soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, Who cried aloud,—What scourge 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 stabbd me in the field by Tewksbury; Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments! With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd

me,

and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling waked, and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream.

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

Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done these 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 avenged on my misdeeds, Yet execute thy wrath on me alone: 0, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children!

SORROW.

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

THE CARES OF GREATNESS.

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.

A MURDERER'S ACCOUNT OF CONSCIENCE. 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 shame-faced 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 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.

ACT II.

DECEIT.

Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice!

SUBMISSION TO HEAVEN OUR DUTY.

In common worldly things,'tis call'd—ungrateful, With dull unwillingness to repay a debt, Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

THE DUCHESS OF YORK'S LAMENTATION ON THE MIS

FORTUNES OF HER FAMILY.
Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days!
How
many

of
you
have mine eyes

beheld ? My husband lost his life to get the crown; And often

up

and down my sons were tost, For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss: And being seated, and domestic broils Clean overblown, themselves, the conquerors, Make war upon themselves: brother to brother, Blood to blood, self 'gainst self: 0, preposterous And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen; Or let me die, to look on death no more!

ACT III.

THE VANITY OF TRUST IN MAN.

O momentary 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.

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

ACT IV.

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 ruthless* butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd 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 alabaster innocent arms;
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay:
Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind;
But, O, the devil-there the villain stopp'd ;
When Dighton thus told on, -we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd.-
Hence, both are gone with conscience and remorse,
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

EXPEDITION.

Come.--I have learn'd, that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary:
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!

QUEEN MARGARET'S EXPROBATION.
I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my fortune;
I call’d thee then, poor shadow, painted queen:
The presentation of but what I was,

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* Merciless.

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