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Glost. These eyes could not endure that beauty's
You should not blemish it, if I stood by :
As all the world is nourish'd by the sun,
So I by that—it is my day, my life!
Lady A. I would it were, to be reveng'd on thee.
Glost. It is a quarrel most unnatural, To wish revenge on him that loves thee.
Lady A. Say rather 'tis my duty, To seek revenge on him, that killá
my husband. Glost. Fair creature, he, that kill'd thy husband, Did it to help thee to a better husband. Lady A. His better does not breathe upon the
Glost. He lives, that loves thee better than he
Lady A. Name him.
Lady A. Why, that was he.
Glost. The self-same name, but one of softer na-
ture. Lady A. Where is he? Glost. Ab, take more pity in thy eyes, and see him
-here Lady A. would they were basilisks, to strike thee
dead ! Glost. I would they were, that I might die at
once, For now they kill me with a living death : Darting with cruel aim despair and love; I never su'd to friend or enemy; My tongue could never learn soft smoothing words; But, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to
speak. Lady A. Is there a tongue on earth, can speak for
thee? Why dost thou court my hate ?
Glost. Oh, teach not thy soft lips such cold con
If thy relentless heart cannot forgive,
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword,
Which, if thou please to hide in this true breast,
And let the honest soul out, that adores thee!
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg that death, upon my knee.
Lady A. What shall I say, or do ? direct me,
When stones weep, sure the tears are natural;
And Heav'n itself instructs us to forgive,
When they do flow from a sincere repentance. (Aside.
Glost. Nay, do not pause, for I did kill King
But, 'twas thy wondrous beauty did provoke me;
Or, now dispatch--'twas I that stabb’d young Ed-
But, 'twas thy heav'nly face that set me on:
And I might still persist, (so stubborn is
My temper) to rejoice at what I've done
But that thy powerful eyes (as roaring seas
Obey the changes of the moon) have turn'd
My heart, and made it flow with penitence.
[She drops the Sword. Take up the sword again, or take up me.
Lady A. No, though I wish thy death,
I will not be thy executioner.
Glost. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Lady A. I have, already.
Glost. That was in thy rage;
Say it again, and even with thy word,
This guilty hand, that robb’d thee of thy love,
Shall, for thy love, revenge thee on thy lover:
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
What ! not a word, to pardon, or condemn'me!
But thou art wise, and canst, with silence, kill me;
Yet, even in death, my fleeting soul pursues thee;
Dash not the tears of penitence away
I ask' but leave to indulge my cold despair.
Lady A. Wouldst thou not blame me, to forgive
thy crimes ?
Glost. They are not to be forgiven; no, not even
Penitence can atone them-Oh, misery
Of thought, that strikes me with, at once, repent-
And despair !-though unpardon'd, yield me pity.
Lady A. 'Would I knew thy heart !
Glost. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue.
Lady A. I fear me, both are false.
Glost. Then never man was true!
Lady A. Put up thy sword.
Glost. Say, then, my peace is made.
Lady A. That shalt thou know hereafter.
Glost. But, shall I live in hope?
Lady A. All men, I hope, live so.
Glost. I swear, brigbt saint, I am not what I was! Those eyes have turn'd my
stubborn heart to woman ; Thy goodness makes me soft in penitence, And my harsh thoughts are turn'dto peace and love, Oh! if thy poor, devoted servant might But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, Thou wouldst confirm his happiness for ever!
Lady A. What is't?
Glost. That it may please thee, leave these sad de-
To him, that has most cause to be a mourner,
And, presently, repair to Crosby House;
Where, after I have solemnly interr’d,
At Chertsey Monastery this injur'd king,
And wet his grave, with my repentant tears,
I will, with all expedient duty, see you.
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this favour.
Lady A. I do, my lord, and much it joys me too,
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel, and Stanley, go along with me.
Glost. Bid me farewell.
Lady A. 'Tis more than
deserve. But, since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I have said farewell already. (Exeunt.
Guard. Towards Chertsey, my lord ?
Glost. No, to Whitefriars ; there attend my com-
ing. [Ereunt GUARDS, with the Body.
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 my hatred by ;
Having Heaven, her conscience, and these bars,
And I, no friends to back my suit withal,
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks !
And yet, to win her! all the world to nothing !
Can she abase her beauteous eyes on me,
Whose all not eqnals Edward's moiety?
me, that halt, and am misshapen thus !
My dukedom to a widow's chastity,
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 have my chambers lin’d with looking-glass;
And entertain a 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 some little cost;
But first, I'll turn St. Harry to his grave,
And then return, lamenting, to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I salute my glass,
That I may see my shadow, as I pass. [Exit.
Enter BUCKINGHAM, hastily, meeting LORD
STANLEY Buck. Did you see the duke? Stanley. What duke, my lord ? Buck. His Grace of Gloster ; did you see him ? Stanley. Not lately, my lord-I hope no ill news? Buck. The worst that heart e'er bore, or tongue
can utter, Edward, the king, his royal brother,'s dead! Stanley. 'Tis sad, indeed! I wish by your impa
tience, To acquaint him though, you think it so, to him.
[Aside. Did the king, my lord, make any
mention Of a protecior, for his crown, and children ? Buck. He did; Duke Richard has the care of
both. Stanley. That sad news you are afraid to tell him too.
(Aside. Buck. He'll spare no toils, I'm sure, to fill his
place. Stanley. 'Pray, Heav'n, he's not too diligent !
Aside. My lord, is not that the Duchess of York, The king's mother, coming, I fear, to visit him : Buck. 'Tis she-little thinking what has befall’n us!
Enter Duchess of York. Duch. of York. Good day, my lords ; how takes
the king his rest?