Glo. Villains, fet down the corfe; or, by faint Paul, I'll make a corfe of him that disobeys. 1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I command; Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, Or, by faint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, [The bearers fet down the coffin. Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? Thou had' but power over his mortal body, Anne. Foul devil, for God's fake, hence, and trouble us not; For thou haft made the happy earth thy hell, Provokes this deluge most unnatural. O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death! Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, bleffings for curses. Anne, Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man; No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity. Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no beast. Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! Glo. More wonderful, when angels are so angry.Vouchfafe, divine perfection of a woman, Of these supposed evils, to give me leave, By circumstance, but to acquit myself. Anne. Vouchfafe, diffus'd infection of a man, For these known evils, but to give me leave, By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leifure to excufe myself. Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make No excuse current, but to hang thyself. Gio. By fuch defpair, I should accuse myself. Anne. And, by despairing, fhalt thou ftand excus'd; For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, That didst unworthy flaughter upon others. Glo. Say, that I flew them not? Anne. But dead they are, and, devilish flave, by thee. Why then, they are not dead : Why, then he is alive. Glo. I did not kill your husband. Anne. Glo. Nay, he is dead; and flain by Edward's hand. Anne. In thy foul's throat thou lieft; queen Margaret faw Thy murderous faulchion fmoking in his blood; The which thou once didit bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat afide the point, Glo. Gla. I was provoked by her fland'rous tongue, Glo. I grant ye. Anne. Doft grant me, hedge-hog? then, God grant me too, Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed! O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous. Glo. The fitter for the King of heaven that hath him. Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. Glo. Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither; For he was fitter for that place, than earth. Anne. And thou unfit for any place, but hell. Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. Anne. Some dungeon. Glo. Your bedchamber. Anne. Ill reft betide the chamber where thou lieft! Glo. I know fo.-But, gentle lady Anne,→ To leave this keen encounter of our wits, As blameful as the executioner ? Anne. Thou waft the cause, and most accurs'd effect. Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect; Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep, To undertake the death of all the world, So I might live one hour in your sweet bofom. Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. Gla. Glo. Thefe eyes could not endure that beauty's wreck ; You should not blemish it, if I ftood by: As all the world is cheered by the fun, Anne. Black night o'er hade thy day, and death thy life! To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband. Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. Glo. Anne. Plantagenet. Why, that was he. Glo. The felf-fame name, but one of better nature. Anne. Where is he? Glo. Here: [She Spits at him.] Why doft thou spit at me? Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy fake! Glo. Thine eyes, fweet lady, have infected mine. Το To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, Told the fad story of my father's death; And twenty times made pause, to fob, and weep, And what thefe forrows could not thence exhale, My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word; My proud heart fues, and prompts my tongue to speak. [She looks fcornfully at him. Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made For kiffing, lady, not for fuch contempt. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo! here I lend thee this fharp-pointed sword; Which if thou please to hide in this true breast, And let the foul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And humbly beg the death upon my knee. [He lays his breaft open; she offers at it with his fword. Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry;- Nay, now defpatch: 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward; [She again offers at his breaft. But 'twas thy heavenly face that fet me on. [She lets fall the sword. Take up the fword again, or take up me. Anne. Arife, diffembler; though I wish thy death, I will not be thy executioner. Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Anne. |