Me heere, heere sheath thy sword,
Ile pardon thee my death. Wilt thou not?
[♦] Then Clarence, doe thou doe it?
Cla. By Heauen I would not doe thee so much ease.
105 Queen. Good Clarence doe, sweet Clarence kill me too.
Cla. Didst thou not heare me sweare I would not do it?
Queen. I, but thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe,
Twas sinne before, but now tis charitie.
[♦] Whears the Diuels butcher, hardfauored Richard,
[110] Richard where art thou? He is not heere,