Halberds, with it; and Lady Anne, as Mourner.

Ann.
Set down, set ^note down your honourable load,—
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,—
Whilst I a while obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.— [Bearers set down the Coffin.
Poor key-cold ^note figure of a holy king,
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster,
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood,
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
Stab'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds ^note.
Lo, in these ^note windows, that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm ^note of my poor eyes:—
O ^note, cursed be the hand, that made these holes ^note!
Cursed the ^note heart, that had the heart to do it!
Cursed the blood, that let this blood from hence! ^note
More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders ^note, 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 aspéct
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness! ^note
If ever he have wife, let her be made ^note
More miserable ^note by the death of him,
Than I ^note am made by my young lord ^note, and thee!—
Come, now, towards Chertsey with your holy load,

Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
And, still as you are weary ^note of the weight ^note,
Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse. Bearers take up the Corpse, and move forward: Enter Richard.

Ric.
Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

Ann.
What black magician conjures up this fiend,
To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Ric.
Villains ^note, set down the corse; or, by saint Paul,
I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

1. G.
My lord ^note, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

Ric.
Unmanner'd dog, stand ^note thou when I command:
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. [Corpse set down.

Ann.
What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.—
Avant, thou dreadful ^note minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have ^note; therefore, be gone.

Ric.
Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

Ann.
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 exclaims.
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 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 dwells;
Thy deed ^note, 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 murtherer dead;
Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick;
As thou dost ^note swallow up this good king's blood,
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!

Ric.
Lady, you know no rules ^note of charity,
Which renders ^note good for bad, blessings for curses.

Ann.
Villain, thou know'st no law ^note of God nor man;
No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.

Ric.
But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

Ann.
O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

Ric.
More wonderful, when angels are so angry:
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed evils, ^note to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit ^note myself.

Ann.
Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man,
For these ^note known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

Ric.
Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

Ann.
Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

Ric.
By such despair, I should accuse myself.

Ann.
And, by despairing, shalt thou ^note stand excus'd;
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
That didst ^note unworthy slaughter upon others.

Ric.
Say, that I slew them not?

Ann.
Then say, they were not slain: ^note
But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.

Ric.
I did not kill your husband.

Ann.
Why, then he is alive.

Ric.
Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand ^note.

Ann.
In thy foul throat thou ly'st; queen Margaret saw
Thy murd'rous faulchion ^note smoaking in his blood;
The which thou once didst bend ^note against her breast,
But that thy brothers ^note beat aside the point.

Ric.
I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue,
Which lay'd ^note their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

Ann.
Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind,
Which never dreamt ^note on ought but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this † king?

Ric.
I grant ye.

Ann.
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.

Ric.
The fitter ^note for the king of heaven that hath him.

Ann.
He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

Ric.
Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither;
For he was fitter for that place, than earth.

Ann.
And thou unfit for any place, but hell.

Ric.
Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

Ann.
Some dungeon.

Ric.
Your bed-chamber.

Ann.
Ill rest betide the chamber where thou ly'st!

Ric.
So will it, madam, 'till I lye with you.

Ann.
I hope so.

Ric.
I know so. But, gentle lady Anne,—

To leave this keen ^note 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?

Ann.
Thou wast ^note the cause,14Q0867 and most accurs'd effect ^note.

Ric.
Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
Your beauty, which did ^note haunt me in my sleep,
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one ^note hour in your sweet bosom.

Ann.
If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend ^note that beauty from my cheeks ^note.

Ric.
These eyes could not endure that beauty's ^note wreck,
You should not blemish it, if ^note I stood by:
As all the world is cheared ^note by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.

Ann.
Black night o'er-shade thy day, and death thy life!

Ric.
Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.

Ann.
I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee.

Ric.
It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee ^note.

Ann.
It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my ^note husband.

Ric.
He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
Did it to help thee to a better husband.

Ann.
His better doth not breath upon the earth.

Ric.
He lives, that loves you better than he could ^note.

Ann.
Name him.

Ric.
Plantagenet.

Ann.
Why, that ^note was he.

Ric.
The self-same name, but one of better nature.

Ann.
Where is he?

Ric.
Here: [she spits at him.] Why dost thou ^note spit at me? ^note

Ann.
'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!

Ric.
Never came poison from so sweet a place.

Ann.
Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes ^note.

Ric.
Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

Ann.
'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

Ric.
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 aspécts ^note with store of childish drops:
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,— ^note
Not, when ^note 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;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never su'd to friend ^note, nor enemy,
My tongue could never learn sweet soothing ^note word ^note;
But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. [she looks scornfully at him.
Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made ^note
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, [kneels, and gives his Sword.

Lo, here I lend thee this † sharp-pointed sword;
Which if thou please to hide in this true ^note breast,
And let the soul forth ^note that adoreth ^note thee,
I lay it naked † to the deadly ^note stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry;— ^note [she offers at his Breast.
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I, that stab'd young Edward;— ^note [offers at it again.
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. [throws away the Sword.
Take up the sword again, or take up me.

Ann.
Arise, dissembler; though I wish thy death,
I will not be thy executioner ^note.

Ric.
Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.

Ann.
I have already.

Ric.
That was in thy rage: ^note
Speak it again, and, even with the word ^note,
This hand ^note, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
To both their deaths shalt thou ^note be accessary.

Ann.
I would, I knew thy heart.

Ric.
'Tis figur'd in my tongue.

Ann.
I fear me, both are false.

Ric.
Then never man was ^note true.

Ann.
Well, well, put up your sword.

Ric.
Say then, my peace is made.

Ann.
That shall you ^note know hereafter.

Ric.
But shall I ^note live in hope?

Ann.
All men, I hope, live so.

Ric.
Vouchsafe to wear this † ring.

Ann.
To take is not to give. ^note

Ric.
Look, how this ring ^note encompasseth thy finger, [putting it on.
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor ^note heart;
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted servant may ^note
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.

Ann.
What is it?

Ric.
That it may please you leave these ^note sad designs
To him that hath more cause ^note to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby-place ^note:
Where—after I have solemnly interr'd
At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,—
I will with all expedient duty see you:
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

Ann.
With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
To see you are become so penitent.—
Tressel, and Berkley ^note, go along with me.

Ric.
Bid me farewel.

Ann.
'Tis more than you deserve:
But, since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewel already. [Exeunt Lady Anne, and two Gen.

Ric.
Take up the corse, sirs ^note. ^note

2. G.
Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

Ric.
No, to ^note White-friars; there attend my coming. [Exeunt the rest, with the Corpse.
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 ^note,
To take her in her heart's extreamest hate ^note;
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred ^note by;
With God, her conscience, and these bars against me,
And I no friends to back my suit withal ^note,
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,
Stab'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,—
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and (no doubt) right royal,—
The spacious world ^note cannot again afford:
And will she yet ^note abase ^note her eyes on me,
That crop'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt, and am unshapen ^note thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while:
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvelous proper man.
I'll be at charges ^note for a looking-glass;
And entertain a score ^note or two of taylors,
To study fashions to adorn ^note my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little ^note cost.
But, first, I'll turn yon' fellow in his grave;

And then re-turn lamenting to my love.—
Shine out, fair sun, 'till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass. [Exit.

Previous section

Next section