While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Glo. What news abroad?

Hast. No news so bad abroad, as this at home :

The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.

Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed.

Oh! be hath kept an evil diet long,
And over-much consum'd his royal person;
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is be in his bed?

Hast. He is.

Glo. Go you before, and I will follow yon. [Erit HASTINGS. He cannot live, I hope; and must not die, Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven.

I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live:
Which done, God take king Edward to his
mercy,

And leave the world for the to bustle in !
For

then I'll marry Warwick's youngest

daughter:

What! though 1 kill'd her husband and her father,

The readiest way to make the wench amends, Is to become her husband, and her father: The which will 1; not all so much for love, As for another secret close intent, By marrying her, which I must reach unto. But yet I run before my horse to market : 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 halberts to guard it; and Lady ANNE as

mourner.

Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load,

af honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I a while obsequiously + lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.-
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood I
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these
wounds!

Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes :-
Oh! cursed be the hand that made these holes!
Cursed the heart, that had the heart to do it!
Cursed the blood, that let this blood from

hence!

More direful bap betide that hated wretch,
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect

May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to bis unhappiness!
If ever he have wife, let her be made
More miserable by the death of him,
Than I am made by my young lord

thee !

And, still as yon are weary of the weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's

corse.

[The bearers take up the corpse, and ad

vance.

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.

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

Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I command:

Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy bold-

ness.

[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 dreadfui 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,
Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep
claims.

If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries :
O gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths, and
afresh! -

ex

bleed

Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For 'tis 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 madest, 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-govern'd 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, wheu 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.

It is a tradition (derived probably from the ancient Swedes) that the murdered body bleeds on the touch of the murderer.

excus'd;

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.
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.
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!
Oh! 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 thither;

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.

band.

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 be could.

Anne. Name him.

Glo. Plantagenet.

Anne. 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. 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 wept,
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;

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 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 bo-

som.

Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,

These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

Glo. These eyes would 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,

To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable,

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 that provoked me.
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.

• Pitiful.