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第9章 Exeunt SCENE IV. London. The Tower.(1)

Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY BRAKENBURY Why looks your grace so heavily today? CLARENCE O, I have pass'd a miserable night, So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, So full of dismal terror was the time! BRAKENBURY What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it. CLARENCE Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy;

And, in my company, my brother Gloucester;

Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England, And cited up a thousand fearful times, During the wars of York and Lancaster That had befall'n us. As we paced along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought 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 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, Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. BRAKENBURY Had you such leisure in the time of death To gaze upon the secrets of the deep? CLARENCE 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 wandering air;

But smother'd it within my panting bulk, Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. BRAKENBURY Awaked you not with this sore agony? CLARENCE O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life;

O, then began the tempest to my soul, Who 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 wandering by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud, 'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;

Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!'

With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me about, 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 the dream. BRAKENBURY No marvel, my lord, though it affrighted you;

I promise, I am afraid to hear you tell it. CLARENCE O Brakenbury, I have done those things, Which now bear 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 in me alone, O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!

I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;

My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. BRAKENBURY I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest!

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

Princes have but their tides for their glories, An outward honour for an inward toil;

And, for unfelt imagination, They often feel a world of restless cares:

So that, betwixt their tides and low names, There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

Enter the two Murderers First Murderer Ho! who's here? BRAKENBURY In God's name what are you, and how came you hither? First Murderer I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. BRAKENBURY Yea, are you so brief? Second Murderer O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious.

Show him our commission; talk no more.

BRAKENBURY reads it BRAKENBURY I am, in this, commanded to deliver The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands:

I will not reason what is meant hereby, Because I will be guiltless of the meaning.

Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep:

I'll to the king; and signify to him That thus I have resign'd my charge to you. First Murderer Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well.

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