I pour

Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds!
Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,

the helpless balm of my poor eyes :
O, 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 hap 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 his 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, and thee!
Come, now, toward Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
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 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 corsé of him that disobeys.

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

not;

Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I com

mand:
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

[The bearers set down the coffin, Anne. What, do you tremble ? are you all afraid? Alas, I blame

you

for

you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.-
Avaunt, thou dreadful 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 trou,

ble us not ; For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern 9 of thy butcheries : 0, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh! Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity ; For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwelis ; Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, 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;

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, when angels are so an-

gry-
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

cus'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 Mar

garet 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 ! 0, 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 bed-chamber. Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest! Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. Anne. I hope so.

Glo. I know so.--But, gentle lady AnneTo leave this keen encounter of our wits,

C

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 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 :
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,
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.

Plantagenet.
ANNC.

Why, that was he.