[♦] Clar. O no, my dream was lengthen’d after life;
[♦] O, then began the tempest to my soul,
45 Who pass’d, methought, the melancholy flood,
[♦] With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
[♦] The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
[♦] Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
[50] Who cried aloud, ‘What scourge for perjury
[♦] Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?’
And so he vanish’d: then came wandering by