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ACT THE SECOND.
Enter Tressel, meeting LORD STANLEY.
Tressel. My lord, your servant; pray what brought
you to St. Paul's ? Stanley. I came among the crowd, to see the corpse Of poor King Henry; 'tis a dismal sight; But yesterday I saw him the Tower; His talk is still so fresh within my memory, That I could weep, to think how fate has us'd him. I wonder where's Duke Richard's policy, In suffering him to lie expos'd to view; Can he believe that men will love him for't? Tressel. () yes, sir, love him, as he loves bis
brothers. When was you with King Edward, pray, my lord ? I hear he leaves his food, is melancholy; And his physicians fear bim mightily.
Stanley. "Tis thought he'll scarce recover.
Tressel, I am oblig'd to pay attendance here:
Stanley. Mean you King Henry's daughter in law?
Stanley. Alas! poor lady! She's severely used !
yet, I hear, Richard attempts her love : Methinks the wrongs he's done her might discourage
him. Tressel. Neither those wrongs, nor his own shape,
can fright him : He sent for leave to visit her, this morning, And she was forc'd to keep her bed, to avoid him : Will you along To see this doleful cere
eremony? Stanley. I'll wait upon you.
Enter LIEUTENANT, hastily. Lieut. My lord, I beg your graceGlost. Begone, fellow! I'm not at leisure. Lieut. My lord, the King, your brother,'s taken ill.
Glost. I'll wait on him : leave me friend. Ha! Edward taken ill! 'Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all,
That from his loins no more young brats may rise, To cross me in the golden time I look for.
Enter LADY ANNE, in Mourning, LORD STANLEY, TRESSEL, GUARDS, BEARERS, with King Hen.
RY's Body, and Six Ladies in Mourning. But see, my love appears—look where she shines, Darting pale lustre, like the silver moon, Thro' her dark veil of rainy sorrow! So mourn'd the dame of Ephesus her love; And thus the soldier, arm'd with resolution, Told his soft tale, and was a thriving wooer. 'Tis true my form perhaps may little move her, But I've a tongue, shall wheedle with the devil : Why I can smile, and smile, and murder when I smile. And cry content, to that, which grieves my heart; And wet my cheek with artificial tears, And suit my face to all occasions Yet hold, she mourns the man, that I have killid; First let her sorrows take some vent-stand here, I'll take her passion in its wain, and turn This storm of grief to gentle drops of pity For his repentant murderer.
(He retires. Lady A. Hung be the heav'ns with black; yield
day to night; Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your fiery tresses in the sky, And with them scourge the bad revolting stars, That have consented to King Henry's death. Oh! be accurst the hand, that shed his blood, Accurst the head, that had the heart to do it; If ever he have wife, let her be made More miserable by the life of him, Than I am now by Edward's death, and thine. Glost. Poor girl, what pains she takes to curse her. self.
[Aside. Lady A. If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious and untimely brought to light;
down. Lady A. What black magician conjures up this
fiend, To stop devo ted charitable deeds ?
Glost. Villains, set down the corse, or by St. Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. Guard. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin
pass. Glost. Unmanner'd slave ! stand thou, when I com
mand, Advance thy halbert higher than my breast, Or, by St. Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. Lady A. Why dost thou haunt him thus, unsated
fiend? Thou hast but power over his mortal body; His soul thou canst not reach, therefore begone.
Glost. Sweet saint, be not so hard for charity.
Lady A. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. Why didst thou do this deed? could not the laws Of man, of nature, nor of Heav'n dissuade thee? No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.
Glost. If want of pity be a crime so hateful, Whence is it, thou, fair excellence, art guilty ?
Lady A. What means the slanderer?
Glost. Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, Of these my crimes suppos'd, to give me leave, By circumstance but to acquit myself. Lady A. Then take that sword, whose bloody point
With Henry's life, with my lov'd lord's, young Ed
ward's, And here let out thy own, to appease their ghosts.
Glost. By such despair I should accuse myself.
Glost. I grant ye.
Glost. Was I not kind, to send him thither, then? He was much fitter for that place than earth.
Lady A. And thou unfit for any place, but hell.
Glost. I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne,
Lady A. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These hands should rend that beauty from my