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And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
13. CLARENCE AND BRAKENBURY.
CLAR. O, I have passed a miserable night,
[it. BRAK. What was your dream, my lord ? I pray you tell
CLAR. Methought that I had broken from the Tower, And was embarked to cross to Burgundy, And in my company my brother Gloster; Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches. Thence we looked toward England, And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster, That had befallen us. As we paced along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloster stumbled, and, in falling, Struck me (that sought to stay him) overboard, Into the tumbling billows of the main. Lord, Lord, methought what pain it was to drown ! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon ; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels ; All scattered 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 wooed the slimy bottom of the deep,
BRAK. Had you such leisure in the time of death, To gaze upon
the secrets of the deep ?
not with this sore agony ? Clar. No, no; my dream was lengthened after life. O then began the tempest to my soul : I passed, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman that 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 vanished. Then came wandering by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dappled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud“Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, That stabbed me in the field by Tewkesbury; Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torinents ! With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environed me, and howlèd 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, that it affrighted you;
CLAR. O, Brakenbury, I have done those things
I pr’ythee, gentle keeper, stay by me:
14. SCROOP AND RICHARD. SCROOP. More health and happiness betide my liego, Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him! K. Rich. Mine is
heart prepared ;
SCROOP. Glad am I that your highness is so armed To bear the tidings of calamity. Like an unseasonable stormy day, Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, As if the world were all dissolved to tears ; So high above his limits swells the rage Of Bolingbrokecovering your fearful land With hard bright steel, and hearts more hard than steel. White beards have armed their thin and hairless scalps Against thy majesty ; boys, with women's voices, Strive to speak big, and clasp their female joints In stiff unwieldy arms, against thy erown; The very beadsmen learn to bend their bows Of double fatal yew against thy state. Yea, distaff women manage rusty bills Against thy seat: both young and old rebel, And all goes worse than I have power to tell.
K. RICH. Too well, too well, thou tell’st a tale so ill. Where is the earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot ? What is become of Bushy? where is Green?
.. No matter where : of comfort no man speak, Let's talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs. Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour !
of idleness : Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum: Have you a ruffian that will swear ? drink ? dance i Revel the night ? rob? murcler ? and commit The oldest sins the newest kind of ways ? Be happy, he will trouble you no more : England shall give him office, honour, might: For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks The muzzle of restraint ! and the wild dog Shall flesh bis tooth on every innocent. O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! When that my care could not withhold thy riot, What wilt thou do when riot is thy care ? O thou wilt be a wilderness again, Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.
P. Hen. O pardon me, my liege! but for my tears, (The moist impediments unto my speech)
had forestall d this dear and deep rebuke,
And found no course of breath within your majesty,
K. HEN. O my son !