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Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims.
Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity,
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 supposed evils, to give me leave, 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 ex
Glo. Say, that I slew them not?
Why then, they are not dead :
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 Mar
garet saw Thy murderous falchion 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 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! 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
Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell.
Anne. I hope so.
Glo. I know so.-But, gentle lady Anne,-
Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
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 reveng'd 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!
Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
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. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops : These eyes, which never shed remorseful* tear,Not when my father York and Edward wepta To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him : Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, 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 bedash'd 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 su'd to friend, nor enemy; My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word; But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, My proud heart sues, and promps 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 'twas thy beauty provoked me.
[She again offers at his breast. But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.
[She lets fall the sword. Take
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 :
Anne. I would, I knew thy heart.
[She puts on the ring.
Anne. What is it?
signs To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, And presently repair to Crosby-place*:
* In Bishopsgate-street.