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.

1st Gent. My lord, stand back and let the coffin pass.

Glo. Unmannered dog! stand thou when I command:

Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
[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.-
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body;
His soul thou canst not have: therefore be gone.
Glo. Sweet saint, for charity be not so curst.
Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake hence, and
trouble us not:

For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Filled 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 congealed mouths and bleed afresh!—
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity ;
For 't is 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 mad'st, revenge his death:
O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his

death!

Either Heaven with lightning strike the mur

derer dead,

Or earth gape open wide, and eat him quick; As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, Which his hell-governed arm hath butchered!

Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor

man:

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.
Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!
Glo. More wonderful when angels are so angry.
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposéd evils to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

Anne. Vouchsafe, diffused 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 excused;

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

Why then they are not dead: But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. Glo. I did not kill your husband.

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.
Anne. Some dungeon.
Glo.

Your bedchamber. Anne. Il rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

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

Glo. 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 wast the cause and most accursed effect.

Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect: Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep To undertake the death of all the world, So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

Glo. These eyes could not endure that beauty's wreck :

You should not blemish it if I stood by.

As all the world is cheeréd by the sun,

So I by that it is my day, my life.

:

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

Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature: thou art both.

Anne. I would I were, to be revenged on thee. Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural,

To be revenged on him that loveth thee.

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

Glo. He lives that loves you better than he could.

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 bedashed 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
weeping.

I never sued to friend nor enemy;

My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word:
But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
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
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful 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 soul forth that adoreth thee,
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 provokéd me.
Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabbed 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. Anne. I have already.

Speak it again, and even with the word,
This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love,
Shall for thy love kill a far truer love:
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.

Anne. I would I knew thy heart.
Glo. 'Tis figured in my tongue.
Anne. I fear me both are false.
Glo. Then never man was true.
Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.
Glo. Say, then, my peace is made.
Anne. That shalt thou know hereafter.
Glo. But shall I live in hope?
Anne. All men, I hope, live so.
Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Anne. To take is not to give.

[She puts on the ring. Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger,

Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart: Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. And if thy poor devoted servant may

But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
Anne. What is it?

Glo. That it may please you leave these sad
designs

To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby-place:
Where, after I have solemnly interred
At Chertsey monastery this noble 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 boon.

Anne. With all my heart: and much it joys

me too

To see you are become so penitent.-
Tressel and Berkley, go along with me.
Glo. Bid me farewell.
Anne.

'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 BERKLEY.
Glo. Take up the corse, sirs.

Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
Glo. No, to White-friars: there attend my com
ing. [Exeunt the rest, with the corpse.
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 killed 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
against me,

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!

Ha! hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward her lord, whom I some three months since
Stabbed in my angry mood at Tewkesbury?
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 abase her eyes on me,
That cropped the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woful bed?

On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety:
On me, that halt and am misshapen 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 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 yon' fellow in his grave,
And then return lamenting to my love.—
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The same. A Room in the Palace. Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD RIVERS, and LORD GREY.

Riv. Have patience, madam: there's no doubt, his majesty

Will soon recover his accustomed health.
Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him

worse:

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

Grey. No other harm but loss of such a lord. Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all harms.

Grey. The heavens have blessed you with a goodly son,

To be your comforter when he is gone.

Q. Eliz. Ah he is young; and his minority Is put into the trust of Richard Gloster,

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 STANLEY.

Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham

and Stanley.

Buck. Good time of day unto your royal

grace.

Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you have been.

Q. Eliz. The Countess Richmond, good my
lord of Stanley,

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

Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers,
Or, if she be accused on true report,
Bear with her weakness; which I think proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.
Q. Eliz. Saw you the King to-day, my lord of

Stanley?

Stan. 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. Ay, Madam : he desires to make atone

ment

Between the Duke of Gloster and your brothers,
And between them and my lord chamberlain :
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.
Q. Eliz. 'Would all were well!-But that will
never be:

I fear our happiness is at the height.

Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and Dorset. Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it. Who are they that complain unto the King That I, forsooth, am stern and love them not? By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. Because I cannot flatter and speak fair, Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, I must be held a rancorous enemy. Cannot a plain man live and think no harm, But thus his simple truth must be abused By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks

Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the

matter:

The King, of his own royal disposition,
And not provoked by any suitor else;
Aiming belike at your interior hatred,
That in your outward action shews itself,
Against my children, brothers, and myself,
Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.
Glo. I cannot tell :-The world is grown so bad
That wrens may pray where eagles dare not perch.
Since every Jack became a gentleman,
There's many a gentle person made a Jack.

Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your meaning,
brother Gloster:

You envy my advancement and my friends'.
God grant we never may have need of you!
Glo. Meantime God grants that we have need

of you.

Our brother is imprisoned by your means,
Myself disgraced, and the nobility

Held in contempt: while great promotions
Are daily given to ennoble those

That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.

Q. Eliz. By Him that raised me to this careful height

From that contented hap which I enjoyed,
I never did incense his majesty

Against the Duke of Clarence but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.
My lord, you do me shameful injury
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.

Glo. You may deny that you were not the cause Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment.

Riv. She may, my lord; for

Glo. She may, Lord Rivers?-Why, who knows

not so?

She may do more, sir, than denying that:
She may help you to many fair preferments:
And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those honours on your high desert.
What may she not? She may,-ay, marry, may
she,-

Riv. What, marry, may she?

Glo. What marry, may she? marry with a king; A bachelor, a handsome stripling too. I wis your grandam had a worser match.

Q. Eliz. My lord of Gloster, I have too long
borne

Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs:
By Heaven, I will acquaint his majesty
Of those gross taunts I often have endured.
I had rather be a country servant-maid,
Than a great queen with this condition,
To be so baited, scorned, and stormed at.
Small joy have I in being England's queen.

Enter QUEEN MARGARET, behind.

Q. Mar. And lessened be that small, God I beseech thee!

Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me.

Glo. What! threat you me with telling of the King?

Tell him, and spare not. Look, what I have said I will avouch in presence of the King:

I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. "T is time to speak; my pains are quite forgot.

Q. Mar. Out, devil! I remember them too well: Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower, And Edward, my poor son, at Tewkesbury.

Glo. Ere you were queen, ay or your husband king,

I was a packhorse in his great affairs;
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries;
A liberal rewarder of his friends:
To royalise his blood I spilt mine own.

Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his
or thine.

Glo. In all which time you and your husband
Grey

Were factious for the house of Lancaster:
And, Rivers, so were you.-Was not your husband
In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain ?—
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
What you have been ere now, and what you are:
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

Q. Mar. A murd'rous villain; and so still
thou art.

Glo. Poor Clarence did forsake his father
Warwick,

Ay, and forswore himself,—which Jesu pardon!—
Q. Mar. Which God revenge!

Glo. To fight on Edward's party, for the crown: And for his meed, poor lord, he is mewed up. I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's, Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine :

I am too childish-foolish for this world.

Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave this world,

Thou cacodæmon! there thy kingdom is.

Riv. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days, Which here you urge to prove us enemies, We followed then our lord, our lawful king: So should we you, if you should be our king. Glo. If I should be !-I had rather be a pedlar: Far be it from my heart the thought thereof!

Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose You should enjoy were you this country's king; As little joy you may suppose in me

That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.

Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof: For I am she, and altogether joyless.

I can no longer hold me patient.- [Advancing. Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out