The First Murderer is one of Richard III’s most efficient and least reflective servants—a man willing to execute the Duke’s darkest commands without significant moral resistance. He appears twice in the play, first receiving his warrant from Richard to murder Clarence in Act 1, Scene 3, and then carrying out that assassination in Act 1, Scene 4. Unlike his partner, the Second Murderer, he shows little internal struggle or guilt. Where his accomplice wavers and ultimately abandons the deed, the First Murderer remains resolute, committed to the business of killing with the efficiency of a professional soldier hired for brutal work.
His character represents the infrastructure of tyranny—the men without conscience who make Richard’s rise possible. When Richard asks if he knows anyone “whom corrupting gold / Would tempt unto a close exploit of death,” the First Murderer embodies the answer: he is that man. He takes the warrant, asks no questions about morality or justice, and promises swift execution. His few lines are marked by matter-of-fact directness. He boasts that he and his partner will not “stand to prate” but will “come to use our hands and not our tongues.” This is the voice of a man for whom killing is simply labor, a transaction between employer and employee. He expects payment and performs his duty without elaborate justification or self-examination.
What makes the First Murderer dramatically interesting is precisely what he lacks: the capacity for remorse that briefly troubles his partner. The Second Murderer experiences moments of conscience, mentions judgment and damnation, and ultimately leaves the scene unable to bear the weight of what he has done. The First Murderer never hesitates. He drowns Clarence in the malmsey butt with the same professional detachment he might show executing any military order. He is the human instrument through which Richard’s will becomes fact, and in his absence of doubt or moral protest, he reveals something darker about Richard’s world than any villainous soliloquy could: that tyranny does not require demons, only ordinary men willing to do extraordinary harm for ordinary pay.
