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LADY ANNE discovered, sitting on a Couch. Lady A. When—when shall I have rest ? Was mar
riage made To be the scourge of our offences bere? Oh, no! 'twas meant a blessing to the virtuous; It once was so to me, though now my curse. The fruit of Edward's love was sweet and pleasing; But, oh! untimely cropp'd by cruel Gloster ; Let me have music, to compose my thoughts.
[Soft Music, It will not be; naught but the grave can close my
He comes—the rude disturber of my pillow.
Glost. Ha! still in tears ? let them flow on; theyr'e
signs Of a substantial grief.--Why don't she die? She must; my interest will not let her live, The fair Elizabeth hath caught my eye; My heart's vacant, and she shall fill her place. They say, that women have but tender hearts : 'Tis a mistake, I doubt--I've found them tough; They'll bend, indeed, but he must strain, that cracks
them. All I can hope 's to throw her into sickness, That I may send her a physician's help.
So, madam, what! you still take care, I see,
Lady A. I wish I could-but 'twill not be believ'd. Have I deserv'd this usage?
Glost. You have—you do not please me, as at first. Lady A. What have I done? What horrid crime
committed ? Glost. To me the worst of crimes ; outliv'd my
liking. Lady A. If that be criminal, just Hea'vn be kind, And take me while my penitence is warm; Oh, sir, forgive and kill me. Glost. Umph! no—the meddling world will call
that murder, And I would have them think me pitiful: Now, wert thou not afraid of self destruction, Thou hast a fair excuse for't. Lady A. How fain would I be friends with death!
Oh, name it. Glost. Thy husband's hate: nor do I hate thee,
only From the dulld edge of sated appetite, But from the eager love I bear another. Some call me hypocrite-what think'st, thou now? Do I dissemble? Lady A. Thy vows of love to me were all dissem
bled. Glost. Not one-for when I told thee
I lov'd: Thou art the only soul I never yet deceiv'd; And 'tis my honesty that tells thee now, With all my heart I hate thee. If this have no effect, she is immortal! [Aside.
Lady A. Forgive me, Heav'n, that I forgave this
Oh may my story, told in after
Give warning to our easy sex's ears ;
tends your highness' pleasure. Glost. Wait on him-I'll expect him here.
[Exit CATESBY. Your absence, madam, will be necessary. Lady A. 'Would my death were so !
[Exit. Glost. It may be, shortly.
[CATESBY passes over the back of the Stage.
Enter BUCKINGHAM. My cousin, what say the citizens? Buck. Now, by our hopes, my lord, they are sense
less stones: Their hesitating fear has struck them dumb ! Glost. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's chil
Glost. And did they so?
His answer was, the people were not us’d
Glost. Oh tongueless blocks! would they not speak? Will not the Mayor then, and his brethren, come ? Buck. The Mayor is here at hand-feign you some
Glost. My other self—my counsel's consistory!
Buck. Hark! the Lord Mayor's at hand-away, my No doubt, but yet we reach our point propos’d.
Glost. We cannot fail, my lord, while you are pilot! A litile flattery sometimes does well.
[Exit. Enter Lord Mayor and CITIZENS. Buck. Welcome, my lord: I dance attendance here, I am afraid the duke will not be spoke withal.
Enter CatesBY. Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request?
Catesby. My lord, he humbly does entreat your
Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke:
Catesby. My lord, I'll instantly inform his high
Buck. Ah, my lord ! this prince is not an Edward : He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed, But on his knees at meditation; Not dallying with a brace of courtezans ; But with two deep divines in sacred praying: Happy were England, would this virtuous prince Take on himself
the toil of sov’reignty. Lord M. Happy indeed, my lord. He will not, sure, refuse our proffer'd love? Buck. Alas, my lord! you know him not: his
mind's Above this world-he's for a crown immortal. Look there, his door opens; now where's our hope? Lord. M. See where his grace stands, 'tween two
clergymen! Buck. Ay, ay, 'tis there he's caught—there's his
ambition. Lord M. How low he bows, to thank them for their
care! And see! a prayer-book in his hand !
Buck. 'Would he were king, we'd give him leave to
Methinks I wish it, for the love he bears the city.
he thought it hard