So do not I: go, coward as thou art.
Now must I hide his body in some hole,
Until the duke take order for his burial:
And when I have my meed, I must away;
For this will out, and here I must not stay.

How now! what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not?
By heavens, the duke shall know how slack thou art!

Take that, and that: if all this will not do,
Stabs him
I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.

Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish.

Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.

Right,
As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself:
'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee.

Ay, millstones; as be lesson'd us to weep.

Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault,
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.

Who made thee, then, a bloody minister,
When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?

How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us,
When thou hast broke it in so dear degree?

And, like a traitor to the name of God,
Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade
Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.

What we will do, we do upon command.

Offended us you have not, but the king.

Hark! he stirs: shall I strike?

Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy
sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt
in the next room.

Tut, I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with me,
I warrant thee.

'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me
not to kill the duke.

How if it come to thee again?

So when he opens his purse to give us our reward,
thy conscience flies out.

Where is thy conscience now?

Remember our reward, when the deed is done.

How dost thou feel thyself now?

Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so.

I thought thou hadst been resolute.

What, art thou afraid?

Why, then he will say we stabbed him sleeping.

No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.

Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well.

I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs.

Ho! who's here?

We will, my noble lord.

Tush!
Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate;
Talkers are no good doers: be assured
We come to use our hands and not our tongues.

We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant
That we may be admitted where he is.