Curs'd be the hand, that made these fatal holes!
Curs'd 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 thee,
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 young lord and thee!—
Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
And still, as you are weary of the weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse.
[Bearers take up the corpse, and move forward.

Enter GLOUCESTER.

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

ANNE. What black magician conjures up this fiend,

To stop devoted charitable deeds?

GLO. Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,

I'll make a corse 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 Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
[Bearers set down the hearse.
ANNE. What, 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,
His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone.
GLO. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
ANNE. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and
trouble us not;

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, see! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh.(2)—
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul 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 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 didst 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 not 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

angry.

Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed evils,‡ to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

ANNE. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, For these known evils, but to give me leave, By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

80

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

No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

GLO. By such despair, I should accuse myself. ANNE. And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excus'd

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.
GLO. Say, that I slew them not?
ANNE.

Why, then, they are not dead:"
But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.
GLO. I did not kill your
husband.

ANNE.
Why, then he is alive.
GLO. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's
hand.*

ANNE. In thy foul throat thou liest; queen
Margaret saw

Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once did bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

GLO. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, Which+ laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. ANNE. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, Which 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 mayst 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

ANNE. Il 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?

[effect. ANNE. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd 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

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 slew* 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 yout better than he
could.
ANNE. Name him.
GLO.

ANNE.

Plantagenet.

Why, that was he. GLO. The self-same name, but one of better

For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt

tears,

Sham'd their aspéct with store of childish drops:
[These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,—
No, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made,
When black-fac'd 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 cheeks,
Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time,
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with
weeping.]

I never sued to friend nor enemy;

(*) First folio, kill'd. (†) First folio, thee. (1) First folio, aspects. "These eies could never endure sweet beauties wrack, You should not blemish them if I stood by."

These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,-] This and the eleven following lines are omitted in the quarto copies.

I lay it naked to thy deadly stroke, And humbly beg the death upon my

knee.

[Lays his breast open. Nay, do not pause; 't was I that kill'd your husband;

[She offers at it with his sword. But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that kill'd king Henry;

[She again offers at his breast. But 't was 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.
Tush, 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;
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessory.
ANNE. I would I knew thy heart.
GLO. "Tis figur'd in my tongue.
ANNE. I fear me both are false.
GLO. Then never man was true.
ANNE. Well, well, put up your sword.
GLO. Say then, my peace is made.
ANNE. That shall you know hereafter.
GLO. But shall I live in hope?
ANNE. All men, I hope, live so.
GLO. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
ANNE. To take, is not to give.b

[Puts on the ring. GLO. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger,

Even so thy 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 hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
ANNE. What is it?

GLO. That it may please you leave these sad
designs

To him that hath more || cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby-place: ¶ (3)
Where-after I have solemnly interr'd,
At Chertsey monast'ry, this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,-

[Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESSEL, and BERKLEY. GLO. Sirs, take up the corse.d

GEN.
Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
GLO. No, to White-friars; there attend my
coming.

[Exeunt the rest with the corpse
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.
What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father,
To take her in her heart's extremest hate,
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by ;
Having God, her conscience, and these bars
against me,

And I no thing to back my suit withal,
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her,—all the world to nothing! Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,—
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature,

Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,—
The spacious world cannot again afford:
And will she yet debase† her eyes on me,
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet princ
And made her widow to a woeful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt,‡ and am unshapen § thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,

I do mistake my person all this while:
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I'll be at charges for a looking glass;
And entertain some score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with a little cost.

Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.* Q. ELIZ. If he were dead, what would betide of + me?

GREY. No other harm but loss of such a lord. Q. ELIZ. The loss of such a lord includes all harm.‡

GREY. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son,

To be your comforter when he is gone.

Q. ELIZ. Ah, he is young; and his minority Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster, A man that loves not me, nor none of you.

Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protector? Q. ELIZ. It is determin'd, not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the king miscarry. GREY. Here come the lords § of Buckingham and Stanley."

Stanley.] He is styled Derby in the old copies; but he was not created Earl of Derby until after Henry VII. came to the throne.

b Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,-] "An importation of artificial manners seems to have afforded our ancient poets a never failing topick of invective. So, in A Tragical Discourse of the Haplesse Man's Life, by Churchyard, 1593:We make a legge, and kisse the hand withall, (A French device, nay sure a Spanish tricke)

The envious slanders of her false accusers;
Or, if she be accus'd on true report,
Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.
Q. ELIZ. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of
Stanley?

STAN. But now, the duke of Buckingham and I Are come from visiting his majesty.

Q. ELIZ. What likelihood of his amendment, lords?

BUCK. Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.

Q. ELIZ. God grant him health! did you confer with him?

BUCK. Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement

Betwixt the duke of Gloster and your brothers, And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain ; And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

Q. ELIZ. Would all were well!-but that will never be ;

I fear our happiness is at the height.

Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET.

GLO. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it:

Who are they that complain unto the king,
That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly,
That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot flatter, and speak § fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.
Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm,
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

GREY. To whom¶ in all this presence speaks your grace?

GLO. To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. When have I injur'd thee? when done thee wrong?

Or thee?—or thee ?-or any of your faction?
A plague upon you all! His royal grace,—
Whom God preserve better than you would
wish!-

Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while,
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.