For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.

FIRST MURDERER.
Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate;
Talkers are no good doers: be assur'd
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.

GLOSTER.
Your eyes drop millstones when fools' eyes fall tears:
I like you, lads;--about your business straight;
Go, go, despatch.

FIRST MURDERER.
We will, my noble lord.

[Exeunt.]



SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Tower.

[Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY.]

BRAKENBURY.
Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?

CLARENCE.
O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,