Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd 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: 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 reveng'd on thee. Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural, To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be reveng'd on him that kill'd 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. Anne. Name him. 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! 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. And twenty times made pause, to sob, and weep, My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word; I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, [He lays his Breast open; she offers at it with Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry ;- 4 • But 'twas thy beauty -] Shakspeare countenances the ob Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd 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. Glo. That was in thy rage: 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. Was never true. 'Tis figur'd in My tongue. I fear me, both are false. Glo. Then man Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. Anne. That shall you know All men, Glo. Say then, my peace is made. Hereafter. Glo. But shall I live in hope? Anne. 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 servation, that no woman can ever be offended with the mention of her beauty. JOHNSON. But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, Glo. That it may please you leave these sad designs For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, 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 coming. [Exeunt the rest, with the Corse. 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 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; 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, 3 — Crosby-place:] A house near Bishopsgate-street, belonging to the duke of Gloster, now Crosby-square, where part of the house is yet remaining. And yet to win her,-all the world to nothing! Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since, Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,— That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? I do mistake my person all this while: 6 [Exit. a beggarly denier,] A denier is the twelfth part of a French sous, and appears to have been the usual request of a beggar. |