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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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Conscience is but a word that cowards use,

 Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. What, frighted with false fire! Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! Confound your hidden falsehood, and award Her husband, knave:--wouldst thou betray me? Of treasonous malice. Clarence is come,--false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,-- That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;-- Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments! For it hath cow'd my better part of man! I am not treacherous. No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Which the false man does easy. I'll to England. 
  • Of treasonous malice.
 False face must hide what the false heart doth know. Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. And ever three parts coward,--I do not know And ever three parts coward,--I do not know And live a coward in thine own esteem; False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse,