And leave the world for me to bustle in! For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter: By marrying her, which I must reach unto. Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives, and reigns; When they are gone, then must I count my gains. [Exit. SCENE II. THE SAME. ANOTHER STREET. Enter the corpse of King Henry the Sixth, borne in an open coffin, Gentlemen bearing halberds, to guard it; and Lady Anne as mourner. Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load, If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,― Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds! Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, May fright the hopeful mother at the view; If ever he have wife, let her be made 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 Glo'ster. 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, Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, 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 murderer dead, Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick; 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 an gry. Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, 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 ex cus'd; For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. Anne. Why then, they are not dead: 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 soul's throat thou liest; queen Margaret saw Thy murderous faulchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. Gio. I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue, That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, That never dreamt on aught but butcheries: Didst thou not kill this king? Glo. I grant ye. Anne. Dost grant me, hedge-hog? then, God grant me too, Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed! 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. |