Enter the corps of KING HENRY the Sixth, Gentlemen with hilberds to guard it; LADY Asss being the mourner.

uns. Set down, set down your honorable
load,

If honor may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, to
Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these
wounds!

Lo. in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.
Cursed the hand that made these fatal holes!
Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it'
Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence!
Move 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 tung that lives! 2
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 poor 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,
Rcs:

3

you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse. Enter GLOUCESTER.

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

Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend,

To stop devoted charitable deeds?

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

I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

Glou. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command:

Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, 45
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spura upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
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.
Glou. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst,
Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and
trouble us not;
5,
For thou hast made the happy earth try 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!
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 madest, 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 cat him quick, As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!

Glou. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God 7)

nor man:

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. Glou. But I know none, and therefore am

no beast.

Ate. Fouler that heart can think thee, thou canst make

No excuse current, but to hang thyself

Gou. By such despair, I should accuse myself. Anne. And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused:

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

gr

Why, then they are not dead: But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. Glou. I did not kill your husband. Anne. Why, then he is alive. Glon. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. [Margaret sav Anne. In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood. The which thou once didst bend against her breast,

But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

Glon I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, Which laid their guilt upon myguiltless shoulders. Anne. Thou wast provoked bythy bloody mind,

Anne. Some dungeon.
Glou.
Your be-chamber.
Anne. Il rest betide the chamber where
thou liest!

Glou. So will it, madam, till I lie with you.
Anne. I hope so.

Glow. 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 art the cause, and most accursed

effect.

120

Glow These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck:

You should not blemish it, if I stood by:
As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.

139

Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life!

Glow. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.

Anne. I would I were, to be revenged on thee. Glon. It is a quarrel most unnatural, To be revenged on him that loveth you.

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be revenged on him that slew my husband. Glou. 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.

140

Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler bad. Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes. Glow. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mice.

159

Anne. Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

Glou. I would they were, that I might de

at once:

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

tears,

Shamed their aspect 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 than Kutlade made
When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at
bim;

Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, 16,
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
I never sued to friend nor enemy: [weeping.
My tongue could never learn s«cet smoothing
words;

179

But, now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
My proud heart sues and prompts my tong e

to speak. She woks sco; nfully at hirt.
Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were m..de
For Lissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-p inted sword;
Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom,
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knec.
[He lays his breast open: she offers et it
with his swor.!.
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry,
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young
Edward,

But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.
Where she le's fail the sword.
Take up the sword again, or take up me.
Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy
death,

I will not be the executioner.

Gou. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Anne. I have already.

Glou.

191

Tush, that was in thy rage: Speak it again, and, even with the word, That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love, Shali, for thy love, kill a far truer love; To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary. Anne. I would I knew thy heart. Glou. 'Tis figured in my tongue. Ann. I fear me both are false. Glou. Then never man was true. Anne. Well, well, pat up your sword. Glou. Say, then, my peace is made. Anne. That shall you know hereafter. Glou. But shall I live in hope? Anne. All men, I hope, live so. Glon. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. Anse. To take is not to give.

200

'Tis more than you deserve; But since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I have said farewell already. [Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkeley. Glou. Sirs, take up the corse.

Gent.

Towards Chertsey, noble lord? Glou. No, to White-Friars; there attend my coming. [Exeunt all but Gloucester. Was ever woman in this humor woo'd? Was ever woman in this humor won? I'll have her; but I will not keep her long. 230 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 And nothing to back my suit at all, [against me, But the plain devil and discembling looks, And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! Ha!

240

Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,

251

Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
Framed 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
And made her widow to a woful bed? [prince,
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 favor with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
Tha: I may see my shadow as I pass. Exit.

260

[fort. Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comAnd cheer his grace with quick and merry words. Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of me?

Riv. No other harm but loss of such a lord. Q. Elis. The loss of such a lord includes all harm.

Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a To be your comforter when he is gone. goodly son,

10

Q. Elis. Oh, he is young, and his minority Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester, A man that loves not me, nor none of you. Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protector? Q. Eliz. It is determined, not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the king miscarry.

Enter BUCKINGHAM and DERBY.

Grey. Here comes the lords of Buckingham and Derby,

Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace! Der. God make your majesty joyful as you have been!

Q. Eliz. The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby,

To your good prayers will scarcely say amen. Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife, And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

20

Der. I do beseech you, either not believe The envious slanders of her false accusers; Or, if she be accused in true report, Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds Fromwayward sickness, and no grounded malice. Riv. Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby?

30

Der. 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