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With Henry's life, with my lov'd lord's, young Ed


And here let out thy own, to appease their ghosts.

Glost. By such despair I should accuse myself. Lady A. Why by despairing only canst thou stand excus'd?

Didst thou not kill the king?

Glost. I grant ye.

Lady A. Oh! he was gentle, loving, mild, and virtuous;

But he's in heaven, where thou canst never come.
Glost. Was I not kind, to send him thither, then?
He was much fitter for that place than earth.
Lady A. And thou unfit for any place, but hell.
Glost. Yes, one place else- -If you will hear me

name it.

Lady A. Some dungeon.

Glost. Your bedchamber.

Lady A. Ill rest betide the chamber, where thou


Glost. So it will, madam, till I lie in yours.

Lady A. I hope so.

Glost. I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne,
To leave this keen encounter of our tongues,
And fall to something a more serious method,
Is not the causer of the untimely deaths,
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner?

Lady A. Thou wert the cause, and most accurs'd effect.

Glost. Your beauty was the cause of that effect,
Your beauty! that did haunt me in my sleep,
To undertake the death of all the world,

So I might live one hour in that soft bosom?

Lady A. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These hands should rend that beauty from my


Glost. These eyes could not endure that beauty's

You should not blemish it, if I stood by :
As all the world is nourish'd by the sun,
So I by that it is my day, my life!

Lady A. I would it were, to be reveng'd on thee.
Glost. It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To wish revenge on him that loves thee.
Lady A. Say rather 'tis my duty,
To seek revenge on him, that kill'd



Glost. Fair creature, he, that kill'd thy husband, Did it to help thee to a better husband.

Lady A. His better does not breathe upon the earth;

Glost. He lives, that loves thee better than he


Lady A. Name him.

Glost. Plantagenet.

Lady A. Why, that was he.

Glost. The self-same name, but one of softer nature.

Lady A. Where is he?

Glost. Ah, take more pity in thy eyes, and see him


Lady A. would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

Glost. I would they were, that I might die at


For now they kill me with a living death:
Darting with cruel aim despair and love;
I never su'd to friend or enemy;

My tongue could never learn soft smoothing words;
But, now thy beauty is propos'd 'my fee,

My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.

Lady A. Is there a tongue on earth, can speak for


Why dost thou court my hate?


Glost. Oh, teach not thy soft lips such cold contempt!

If thy relentless 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 honest soul out, that adores thee!
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,

And humbly beg that death, upon my knee.

Lady A. What shall I say, or do? direct me,

When stones weep, sure the tears are natural;
And Heav'n itself instructs us to forgive,

When they do flow from a sincere repentance. [Aside.
Glost. Nay, do not pause, for I did kill King

But, 'twas thy wondrous beauty did provoke me;
Or, now dispatch-'twas I that stabb'd young Ed-

But, 'twas thy heav'nly face that set me on:
And I might still persist,, (so stubborn is
My temper) to rejoice at what I've done~
But that thy powerful eyes (as roaring seas
Obey the changes of the moon) have turn'd
My heart, and made it flow with penitence.

[She drops the Sword.

Take up the sword again, or take up me.
Lady A. No, though I wish thy death,

I will not be thy executioner.

Glost. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Lady A. I have, already.

Glost. That was in thy rage;

Say it again, and even with thy word,

This guilty hand, that robb'd thee of thy love,
Shall, for thy love, revenge thee on thy lover:
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
What! not a word, to pardon, or condemn me!
But thou art wise, and canst, with silence, kill me;

Yet, even in death, my fleeting soul pursues thee;
Dash not the tears of penitence away--

I ask but leave to indulge my cold despair.

Lady A. Wouldst thou not blame me, to forgive thy crimes?

Glost. They are not to be forgiven; no, not even Penitence can atone them-Oh, misery

Of thought, that strikes me with, at once, repent


And despair!-though unpardon'd, yield me pity.
Lady A. 'Would I knew thy heart!
Glost. "Tis figur'd in my tongue.
Lady A. I fear me, both are false.
Glost. Then never man was true!
Lady A. Put up thy sword.

Glost. Say, then, my peace is made.
Lady A. That shalt thou know hereafter.

Glost. But, shall I live in hope?

Lady A. All men, I hope, live so.

Glost. I swear, bright saint, I am not what I was! Those eyes have turn'd my stubborn heart to wo


Thy goodness makes me soft in penitence,

And my harsh thoughts are turn'd to peace and love. Oh! if thy poor, devoted servant might

But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,

Thou wouldst confirm his happiness for ever!

Lady A. What is't?

Glost. That it may please thee, leave these sad de


To him, that has most cause to be a mourner,
And, presently, repair to Crosby House;
Where, after I have solemnly interr'd,
At Chertsey Monastery this injur'd 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 favour.

Lady A. I do, my lord, and much it joys me too, To see you are become so penitent. Tressel, and Stanley, go along with me. Glost. Bid me farewell.

Lady A. 'Tis more than you deserve.

But, since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.
Guard. Towards Chertsey, my lord?


Glost. No, to Whitefriars; there attend my com[Exeunt GUARDS, with the Body.


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,
To take her, in her heart's extremest hate,
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of my hatred by ;

Having Heaven, her conscience, and these bars, against me,

And I, no friends to back my suit withal,
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks!
And yet, to win her! all the world to nothing!
Can she abase her beauteous eyes on me,
Whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus !
My dukedom to a widow's chastity,
I do mistake my person, all this while,
Upon my life! she finds, (although, I cannot,)
Myself, to be a marvellous, proper man.
I'll have my chambers lin'd with looking-glass;
And entertain a score or two of tailors,
To study fashions, to adorn my body.
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it, with some little cost;
But first, I'll turn St. Harry to his grave,
And then return, lamenting, to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I salute my glass,
That I may see my shadow, as I pass.


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