Which done, God take king Edward to his mercy, By marrying her, which I must reach unto. When they are gone, then must I count my gains. [Exil. SCENE II.-The same. Another street. Enter the corpse of King Henry the Sixth, borne in an open coffin, Gentlemen bearing halberds, to guard it; and Lady Anne as mourner. Anne. Set down, set down, your honourable If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,- Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, (1) Funereal. That makes us wretched by the death of thee, May fright the hopeful mother at the view; Glo. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set it Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds? Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by saint I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. 1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not: For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, Provokes this deluge most unnatural. O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death! O 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 hath butchered! Glo. 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 beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity. Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leisure to excuse myself. Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make (1) Example. No excuse current, but to hang thyself. Glo. By such despair, I should accuse myself. Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand excus'd; others. For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, Anne. Why then, they are not dead: Why, then he is alive. Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liest; queen Margaret saw Thy murderous faulchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. Glo. I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue, That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, That never dreamt on aught but butcheries: Didst thou not kill this king? Glo. I grant ye. Anne. Dost grant me, hedge-hog? then God grant me too, Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed! 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 bed-chamber. Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest ! Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. Anne. I hope so. 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, So I might 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. Glo. These eyes could not endure that beauty's wreck. You should not blemish it, if I stood by: 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. Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural, 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. Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, Did it to help thee to a better husband. Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. Glo. He lives, that loves you better than he could. Anne. Name him. Glo. Plantagenet. Why, that was he. |