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Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes!
Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it!
Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence!
More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
That makes us wretched by the death of thce,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!

If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness!
If ever he have wife, let her be made
As miserable by the death of him
As I am made by my poor lord and thee!
Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Pauls to be interred there;

30 And still, as you are weary of the weight, Rest you, wbiles I lament King Henry's corse.

Glou. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend,
To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Glou. Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

Glou. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command: Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,

40 Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

Anne. Wha:, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
Ilis soul thou canst not liave; therefore, be gone.

Glou. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us

For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
O, gentlemen, see, sce! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh!
Blush, blush, thou lump of foui deformity;

For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,

Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death!
() earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death!
Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead,
Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,
As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood,
Which his hell-govern'd arm bath butchered!

Glou. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man: No bcast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. 71

Glou. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the trutlı!

Glou. More wonderful, when angels are so angry.
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed evils, to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

Anne. Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

Glou. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me lavo
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.
Anne. Fouler than heart can think thice, thou canst

make No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

Glou. By such despair, I should accuse myself.

Anne. And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused;
For doing wortliy vengeance on thyself,
Which didst un worthy slaughter upon otlicrs.

Glou. Say that I slew them not?

Why, then are not dead: But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thec.

Glou. I did not kill your husband.

Why, then he is alive.
Glou. Nay, he is dead, and slain by Edward's hand.
Anne. In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret
Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood;
The which thou once didst bend against her breast,
But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

Glou. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, Which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, Wiiich never dreamt on auglit but butcheries;

100 SILAK. JI.-19



I grant ye.

Didst thou not kill this king?

Anne. Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me

too Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed! O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous! Giou. The filter for the King of heaven, that hath him. inne. lle is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

Glou. Let him thauk me, that holp to send himn thither; For he was fitter for that place than earth.

Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hcll.
Glou. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.
Anne. Some dungeon.

111 Glou.

Your bed-chamber.
Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest!
Glu. So will it, madam, till I lic with you.
Anne. I liope so.

I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne,
To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
And fall somewhat into a slower method,
Is vot the causer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner?

June. Thou art the cause, and most accurscd effect.

Glou. Your beauty was the cause of that effect; 121 Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep To undertake the death of all the world, So I miglit live one hour in your sweet bosom.

Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks,
Glou. These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's

You should not blemish it, if I stood by:
As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.

130 Annie. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy

Glou. Curse not thyself, fair crcature; thou art both.
Anne. I would I were, to be reveuged on thee.

Glou. It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be revenged on him that loveth you.

Aune. It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be revenged on him that slew my husband.

Giou. IIe ihat bereft thee, lady of thy husband,
Did it to help thee to a better husband.

Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. 140 Glou. He lives that loves tlice better than he could,

Anne. Name him.


Why, that was he.
Glou. The selfsame name, but one of better nature.
Anne, Where is he?

Here. [She spitteth at him.] Thy
dost thou spit at me?
Anne. Woulil it were mortal poison, for thy sake!
Glou. Never came poison from so sweet a place.

Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.

Glou. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. 150
Ams. Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

G'ou. I would they were, that I miglit die at once;
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,
Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops:
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,
No, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the pitcon3 moan that Rutland made
When black-laced Clifford shook his sword at him;
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,

Told the sad story of my father's death,
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their checks,
Like trees bedish'd with rain: in that sad time
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrow's could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty lath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never sucil to friend nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing words;
But, now thy beauty is proposed my fee,

170 My proud heart sues and prompts my tongue to speak.

[She looks scornfully at him. Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom, And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And humbly be the death upon my knee.

[II: lays his breast open: she offers at it with his slord. Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry,

180 But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stablı’d young Edwaril, But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on,

[Here she lets fall the sword. Take up the sword again, or take up me.

Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
I will not be the executioner,

Glou. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Anne. I have already.

Tush, that was in thy rage:
Speak it again, and, even with the word,
That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love, 190
Shail, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary.

Anne. I would I knew thy heart.
Glou. 'Tis figured in my tongue.
Anne. I fear me both are false.
Glou. Then never man was true.
Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.
Glou. Say, then, my peace is made.
Anne. That shall you know licreafter.
Glou. But shall I live in liope?

Anne. All men, I hope, live so.
Glou. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Anne. To take is not to give.

Glou. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger,
Even so tly breast encloseth my poor heart;
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted suppliant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious land,
Thou dost contirm his happiness for ever.
Anne. What is it?

Glow. That it would please thee leave these sad designs
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby Place;
Where, after I have soleinnly interr'd
At Chertsey monastery this noble king,
And wet his grave wiil my repentant tears,
I will with alí expedient duty sce you:
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

inne. With all my heart; and much it joys me too, 220 To sce you are become so penitent. Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

Glou. Bid me farewell.

'Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.

(Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkeley. Glou. Sirs, take up the corse. Gent.

Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

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