Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
Glou. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
[115] I will deliver you, or else lie for you:
Meantime, have patience.
[♦] Clar. I must perforce. Farewell. [Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard.
[♦] Glou. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne’er return,
Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
[120] If heaven will take the present at our hands.
[♦] But who comes here? the new-deliver’d Hastings?