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So cowardly: and but for these vile guns,
CLARENCE 'AND BRAKENBURY. BRAK. HY looks your Grace fo heavily to-day?
Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night, So full of ugly fights, of ghafly dreams, That zus I am a Chriftian faithful man, I would not fpend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; So full of dismal terror was the time.
Brak. What was your dream, my Lord? I pray you
CLAR. Methought that I had broken from the tow'r, And was imbark'd to cross to Burgundy, And in my company my
brother Glo'ster; Who from
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 befall'n us. As we pass'd along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Glo'fter stumbled, 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 noise of waters in What fights of ugly death within mine eyes! I thought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; X2
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon;
did once inhabit, there were crept,
BRAK. Had you such leisure in the time of death, To gaze upon the secrets of the deep ?
Clar. Methought I had; and often did I strive
Brak. Awak'd you not with this fore agony?
CLAR. No, no; my dream was lengthen'd after life ; O then began the tempest to my soul: 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-soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, Who cry'd 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, perjured 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
BRAK. No marvel, Lord, that it affrighted you;
CLAR. Ah! Brakenbury, I have done those things That now give evidence against my soul, For Edward's fake; 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! I pr’ythee, Brakenbury, stay by me: My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
OTHEN I fee Queen Mab hath been with you,
She is the fancy's midwife, and the comes
Her whip of cricket's bone; the lash of film;
А р о т н Е с A R Y.
DO remember an apothecary,
And hereabouts he dwells, whom late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of fimples ; meagre were his looks ;
C H A P.
E V E N IN G.
Faught of oaten stop, or paftoral song,
Like thy own solemn springs,
Thy springs, and dying gales,
With brede ethereal wove,
O'erhang his wavy bed :