Glo. Let him thank me that holp to fend him thither, For he was fitter for that place than Earth. Anne. And thou unfit for any place but Hell, Glo. Yes one place elfe, if you will hear me name it. Anne. Some Dungeon. Glo. Your Bed chamber. Anne. Ill Reft betide the Chamber where thou lyeft. Glo. I know fo. But gentle Lady Anne, Anne. Thou waft the Caufe, and most accurft effect. As all the World is cheered by the Sun, Anne. Black night o'er-fhade thy Day, and death thy Life Thou art both. Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee. To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. Anne. It is a quarrel juft and reasonable, To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my Husband.. Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the Earth. Glo. Plantagenet. Anne Anne. Why that was he. Glo. The felf-fame Name, but one of better Nature. Glo. Here: Why doft thou spit at me? [She fpits at him. Anne. Would it were mortal Poifon for thy fake. Glo. Never came Poifon from fo fweet a Place. Anne. Never hung Poison on a fouler Toad. Out of my Sight, thou doft infect mine Eyes. Glo. Thine Eyes, fweet Lady, have infected mine. Anne. Would they y were Bafilisks to ftrike thee dead. Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once: For now they kill me with a living Death. Thole Eyes of thine from mine have drawn falt Tears; Sham'd their Afpects with ftore of childish Drops: Thefe Eyes, which never fhed remorfeful Tear, No, when my Father Tork, and Edward wept, To hear the piteous Moan that Rutland made, When black-fac'd Clifford fhook his Sword at him: Nor when thy warlike Father, like a Child, Told the fad Story of my Father's Death, And twenty times made Pause to fob and weep, That all the Standers-by had wet their Cheeks, Like Trees be-dash'd with Rain: In that sad Time, My manly Eyes did fcorn an humble Tear: And what thefe Sorrows could not thence exhale, Thy Beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. I never fued to Friend, nor Enemy; My Tongue could never learn sweet smoothing Words; My proud Heart fues, and prompts my Tongue to fpeak. I lay it naked to the deadly Stroke, C And And humbly beg the Death upon my Knee. [He lays his Breaft open, he offers at it with his Sword. Nay, do not paufe; for I did kill King Henry; But 'twas thy Beauty that provoked me. Nay, now difpatch: 'Twas I that ftabb'd young Edward, But 'twas thy heav'nly Face that fet me on. [She falls the Sword. Take up the Sword again, or take up me. Anne. Arife, Diffembler, though I with thy Death, Glo. Then bid me kill thy felf, and I will do it." Gle. That was in thy Rage: Speak it again, and even with thy word, This Hand, which for thy love, did kill thy Love, Glo. Then never Man was true. Anne. Well, well, put up your Sword. Gle. Say then, my Peace is made. Glo. But fhall I live in hope? Anne. All Men I hope live fo. Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this Ring. Look how my Ring encompaffeth thy Finger, Even fo thy Breaft inclofeth my poor Heart: Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. But beg one Favour at thy gracious Hand, Glo. That it may please you leave these fad Designs 1 I will with all expedient Duty fee you For divers unknown Reasons, I beseech you, Grant me this Boon.. Anne. With all my Heart, and much it joys me too, To fee you are become fo penitent. Traffel and Barkley, go along with me. Glo. Bid me farewel. Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve: But fince you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I have faid farewel already. [Exeunt two with Anne, Gent. Towards Chertsey, Noble Lord? Glo. Now to White Friars, there attend my coming. Was ever Woman in this humour woo'd? [Exit Coarfe. Was ever Woman in this humour won? Having God, her Confcience, and thefe Bars against me, But the plain Devil and diffembling Looks: And yet to win her All the World to nothing! Hath fhe forgot already that brave Prince, Edward, her Lord, whom I, fome three Months fince, Fram'd in the prodigality of Nature, Young, Valiant, Wife, and no doubt, right, Royal, My My felf to be a marv'lous proper Man, [Exit. Enter the Queen, Lord Rivers, and Lord Gray. Riv. Have patience, Madam, there is no doubt, his Majefty Will foon recover his accuftom'd Health. Gray In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse, Queen. Ah! he is young, and his Minority Enter Buckingham and Derby. Gray. Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Derby, Buck, Good time of Day unto your Royal Grace. Derby. God make your Majefty joyful, as you have been. Queen. The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby, To your good. Prayer will fcarcely fay, Amen; Yet Derby, notwithstanding the's your Wife, And loves not me, be you, good Lord, affur'd, I hate not you for her proud Arrogance. Derby |