To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds! I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes: O, cursed be the hand that made these holes! May fright the hopeful mother at the view; Than I am made by my young lord, and thee! And, still as you are weary of the weight, Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse. [The bearers take up the corpse, and advance. Enter GLOSTER. 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, [The bearers set down the coffin. 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. 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. Provokes this deluge most unnatural. O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death! 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. 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 shalt thou stand excus'd, That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. ANNE. Then say, they were not slain. But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. 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 murtherous faulchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. GLO. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. ANNE. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, That never dream'st on aught but butcheries: Didst thou not kill this king? ANNE. Dost grant me, hedgehog? 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 come. GLO. Let him thank me that holp to send him thither; For he was fitter for that place than earth. ANNE. And thou unfit for any place but hell. GLO. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. GLO. Your bed-chamber. ANNE. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest! GLO. I know so.-But, gentle lady Anne, As blameful as the executioner? ANNE. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd effect. To undertake the death of all the world, As all the world is cheered by the sun, So I by that; it is my day, my life. ANNE. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life! To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. ANNE. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, ANNE. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. GLO. ANNE. Plantagenet. Why, that was he. GLO. The self-same name, but one of better nature. ANNE. Where is he? GLO. Here [She spits at him]: Why dost thou spit at me? ANNE. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! For now they kill me with a living death. No, when my father York and Edward wept And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep, And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. [She looks scornfully at him. Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And humbly beg the death upon my knee. [He lays his breast open; she offers at it with his sword. Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry;— But 't was thy beauty that provoked me. Nay, now despatch; 't was I that stabb'd young Edward;— [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. GLO. That was in thy rage: Speak it again, and even with the word, This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love, |