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On his own Perfon, after his fuccessful Addresses.
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
SCENE IV. Queen Margaret's Execration.
The worm of confcience still begnaw thy foul;
(3) The flave of nature.] She afterwards says,
Diftortum vultum fequitur diffortio morum.
Sin, death, and hell have fet their marks upon him.
Mr. Warburton obferves, "that the expreffion in the text is ftrong and noble, and alludes to an ancient custom of masters branding of their flaves: by which it is infinuated, that his mif-fhapen perfon was a mark that nature had fet upon him to ftigmatize his ill conditions." It has been long fince obferved
Thou loathed iffue of thy father's loins! (4) Thou rag of honour, thou detested.
I was born fo high,
Our airy buildeth in the cedar's top,
(5) But then I figh, and with a piece of fcripture, Tell them, that God bids us do good for evil; And thus I cloath my naked villany With old odd ends, ftol'n forth of holy writ, And feem a faint, when most I play the devil.
SCENE V. The Tower.
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 Glofter; Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches. Thence we look'd tow'rd England,
(4) Rag, &c.] Richard fpeaking of Richmond and his followers in the laft act of this play fays,
Lash hence these over-weaning rags of France,
(5) See Merchant of Venice, p. 162. n. 11. and p. 141. preced ing.
Clar. Methought I had; and often did I ftrive
Brak. Awak'd you not with this fad agony? Clar. No, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life. O then began the tempeft to my 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 foul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, Who cry'd aloud-What fcourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford falfe Clarence? And fo he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by A fhadow like an angel, with bright hair,
Dabbled in blood, and he fhriek'd out aloud—
Brak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you: I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.
Clar. Ah! Brakenbury, I have done thofe things That now give evidence against my foul, For Edward's fake: and, fee, how he requites me! O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be aveng'd on my mifdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone;
O, fpare my guiltlefs wife, and my poor children!
Sorrow breaks feafons and repofing hours, Makes night morning, and the noon-tide night.
Greatness, its Cares.
(6) 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 endless cares;
(6) See pages 60, 61, &c. and the notes foregoing.
SCENE V. The Murderers Account of Confcience.
I'll not meddle with it; it is a dangerous thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot steal, but it accufeth him; a man cannot fwear, but it checks him; a man cannot lye with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blufhing fhame-fac'd fpirit, that mutinies in a man's bofom; it fills one full of obftacles. It made me once reftore a purfe of gold that by chance I found. It beggars any man that keeps it. It is turned out of 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. SCENE II.
Duchefs of York on the Misfortunes of her Family.
Accurfed and unquiet wrangling days!
Ah! that deceit should steal fuch gentle shape,