Glo. I grant ye. Anne. 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. name it. Anne. Some dungeon. Glo. Your bed-chamber. Anne. Il rest betide the chamber where thou liest ! Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. Glo I know so. But, gentle lady Anne,To leave this keen encounter of our wits, And fall somewhat into a slower method; Is not the causer of the timeless deaths Of these Plantagenets, Henry, and Edward, As blameful as the executioner? Anne. Thou wast 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. Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. Glo. These eyes could not endure that beauty's wreck; 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. Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life! Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both. Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee. To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. could. Anne. Name him. Glo. Anne. Plantagenet. Why, that was he. Glo. The self-same name, but one of better nature. Anne. Where is he? Glo. Here: [She spits at him.] Why dost thou spit at me? Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place. Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes. Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once; For now they kill me with a living death. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops: 6 Pitying. Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, Thy beauty bath, and made them blind with weeping. I never su'd to friend, nor enemy;, My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word; But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, speak. My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, [He lays his breast open; she offers at it with Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry ;But 'twas thy beauty that provok'd me. Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward; [She again offers at his breast. But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. [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 thy executioner. Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Anne. I have already. Glo. That was in thy rage: Speak it again, and, even with the word, This hand, which for thy love, did kill thy love, Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; [She puts on the ring. Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, Glo. That it may please you leave these sad designs To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king, Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys me 'too, To see you are become so penitent. Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me. Glo. Bid me farewell. 7 In Bishopsgate-street. Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve; But, since you teach me how to flatter you, [Exeunt Lady ANNE, TRESSEL, and BERKLEY. Glo. Take up the corse, sirs. Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord? Glo. No, to White Friars; there attend my coming. [Exeunt the rest, with the Corse. Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? Was ever woman in this humour won? -- I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; me, And I no friends to back my suit withal, But the plain devil, and dissembling looks, Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since, Fram'd in the prodigality of nature, Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,— That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? My dukedom to a beggarly denier, I do mistake my person all this while : A small French coin. |