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Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accursed
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 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! 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,
Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth.
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! Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place.
Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes.
Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee
dead! Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once ;
For now they kill me with a living death.
[She looks scornfully ai him.
his sword. Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry ;But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. Nay, now despatch ; 'twas I that stabbed young Edward ;
[She again offers at his breast. But 'twas 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.
That was in thy rage.
, for thy love, kill a far truer love ;
Anne. I would I knew thy heart.
[She puts on the ring.
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 monastry, this noble king,
1 Crosby Place is now Crosby Square, in Bishopsgate Street. This magnificent house was built in 1466, by sir John Crosby, grocer and woolman. He died in 1475. The ancient hall of this fabric is still remaining, though divided by an additional floor, and encumbered with modern galleries, having been converted into a place of worship for Antinomians, &c. The upper part of it was lately the warehouse of an eminent packer. Sir J. Crosby's tomb is in the neighboring church of St. Helen the Great.
And wet his grave with my repentant tears-
Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
Glo. Bid me farewell.
'Tis more than
deserve; But, since you teach me how to flatter
you, Imagine I have said farewell already.
[Exeunt LADY ANNE, TREssel, and
Towards Chertsey, noble lord ? Glo. No, to White Friars; there attend my coming.
[Exeunt the rest, with the corse. Was ever woman in this humor wooed ? Was ever woman in this humor 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; With 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 Tewksbury ? ? A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman
1 i. e. expeditious.
2 This fixes the exact time of the scene to August, 1471. King Edward, however, is introduced in the second act dying. That king died in April, 148:3; consequently there is an interval between this and the next act of almost twelve years. Clarence, who is represented in the preceding scene as committed to the Tower before the burial of king Henry VI., was in fact not confined nor put to death till March, 1477–8, seven years afterwards.
Framed in the prodigality of nature,
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;
Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of me?
1 A small coin, the twelfth part of a French sous. 2 In for into.