Classic Poem

FIRST MURDERER : Who made thee then a bloody minister,
When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?
CLARENCE : My brother's love, the devil, and my rage.
FIRST MURD : Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault,
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.
CLAR : If you do love my brother, hate not me;
I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you be hir'd for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloucester,
Who shall reward you better for my life
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
SECOND MURD : You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloucester hates you.
CLAR : O, no! he loves me, and he holds me dear: Go you to him from me.
BOTH MURD : Ay, so we will.
CLAR : Tell him, when that our princely father York
Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other,
He little thought of this divided friendship:
Bid Gloucester think on this, and he will weep.
FIRST MURD : Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep.
CLAR : O! do not slander him, for he is kind.
FIRST MURD : Right,
As snow in harvest. Thou deceiv'st thyself:
'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here.
CLAR : It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune,
And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
That he would labour my delivery.
FIRST MURD : Why, so he doth, now he delivers you
From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven.
SECOND MURD : Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.
CLAR : Have you that holy feeling in thy soul,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
That thou wilt war with God by murdering me?
O! sirs, consider, they that set you on
To do this deed will hate you for the deed.
SECOND MURD : What shall we do?
CLAR : Relent and save your souls.
FIRST MURD : Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish.
CLAR : Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish.
Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,
Would not entreat for life?
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks;
O! if thine eye be not a flatterer,
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
As you would beg, were you in my distress:
A begging prince what beggar pities not?
SECOND MURD : Look behind you, my lord.
FIRST MURD : Take that, and that:
If all this will not do,
I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.