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Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset;-sweet Oxford, thanks.

Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath nothing else.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand. Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.

Oxf. I thought no less: it is his policy, To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.

Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness.

Q. Mar. This cheers my heart to see your forwardness.

Oxf. Here pitch our battle, hence we will not budge.

March. Enter at a distance, KING EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces.

K Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,

Which, by the heaven's assistance, and your strength,

Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
I need not add more fuel to your fire,

For, well I wot,9 ye blaze to burn them out:
Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords.

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Canst thou not speak?-O traitors! murderers!

Q. Mur. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I They that stabb'd Cæsar, shed no blood at all,

should say,

My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes,
Therefore, no more but this:-Henry, your sove-
reign,

Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,

His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, His statutes cancelled, and his treasure spent; And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords, Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.

[Exeunt both Armies.

SCENE V. Another Part of the same. Alarums: Excursions; and afterwards a Retreat. Then enter KING EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces; with QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET, Prisoners.

K. Edw. Now, here a period of tumultuous broils. Away with Oxford to Hammes' castle' straight: For Somerset, off with his guilty head.

Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak. Orf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words. Som.Nor 1; but stoop with patience to my fortune.

[Exeunt OXFORD and SOMERSET, guarded.
Q. Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous world,
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.
K. Edw. Is proclamation made,-that, who finds
Edward,

Shall have a high reward, and he his life?
Glo. It is: and, lo, where youthful Edward comes.
Enter Soldiers, with PRINCE EDWARD.

K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak:

What! can so young a thorn begin to prick?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
Prince.Speak like a subject,proud ambitious York!
Suppose that I am now my father's mouth;
Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou,
Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee,
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.
Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd!
Glo. That you might still have worn the petti-

coat,

And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. Prince. Let Esop2 fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sort not with this place.

Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that word. Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to

men.

Glo. For God's sake take away this captive scold.

Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back rather.

K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.

Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my duty; you are all undutiful; Lascivious Edward,-and thou perjur'd George,• Know. A castle in Picardy.

The prince calls Richard, for his crookedness, Æsop.

Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by, to equal it.
He was a man: this, in respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it!
No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak :—
And I will speak, that so my hart may burst.-
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd upremorse
But, if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off,
As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young
prince!

K. Edw. Away with her; go bear her hence pet force.

Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch m here;

Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death What! wilt thou not?-then, Clarence, do it thou Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, di thou do it.

Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would no do it!

Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyselft 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher Hard-favor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou! Thou art not here: Murder is thy atms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.

K. Elw. Away, I say; I charge ye bear her heros Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to la prince! [Exit, led out furcity K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? Clar. To London all in post; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head Now march we hence: discharge the common, sor With pay and thanks, and let's away to London, And see our gentle queen how well she fares; By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. Exeunt SCENE VI.-London. A Room in the Tower.

KING HENRY is discovered sitting with a Book in hả Hand, the Lieutenant affending. Enter Gusta Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your booN S hard?

K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I shoul say rather;

'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better; Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not good leret, Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves; we must exa fer. Erif Lieutenanİ K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from th

wolf:

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher's knite.What scene of death hath Roscius now to act" Glo. Suspicion always haun's the guilty mind. The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

She alludes to the desertion of Clarence

K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush: And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, Have now the fatal object in my eye,

Where my pool young was limed, was caught, and kul'd.

Gl. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete,
That taught his son the office of a towl?
And yet, for all his wings, the tool was drown'd.
K. Hen. I, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus ;
Thy lather, Minos, that denied our course;
The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea,
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
Ab, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point,
Than can my ears that tragic history.-

But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life!
Glo. Think'st thou, I am an executioner!
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art;
If murdering innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.

G. Thy son I kill'd, for his presumption.

K. Hen. Had'st thou been kill'd, when first thou didst presume,

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophesy,-that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear;
And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye-
Men for their sons', wives for their husbands' fate,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,—
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dugs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down
trees;

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope;
To wit, an indigest deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast born,
To signity,-thou cam'st to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam'st-

Gio. I'll hear no more;-Die, prophet, in thy
speech;
[Stabs him.

For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
K.Hen.Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.
O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Dies.
Gle. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
S.nk in the ground! I thought it would have
mounted.

See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!
O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house!-
any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell;-and say-I sent thee thither,
[Stabs him again.
1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.-
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of;
As I have often heard my mother say,
I came into the world with my legs forward:
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried,
0, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!
Ard so I was; which plainly signified-
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother:

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And this word-love, which graybeards call divine
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me; I am myself alone.—
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:
For I will buz abroad such prophecies,
That Edward shall be fearful of his life:
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone:
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest;
Counting myself but bad, till I be best.-
I'll throw thy body in another room,

And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. [Exit.

SCENE VII-A Room in the Palace.

KING EDWARD is discovered sitting on his Throme;
QUEEN ELIZABETH with the infant Prince. CLA-
RENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and others, near him.
K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal
throne,

Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foe-men, like to autumn's corn,
Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride?
Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions:
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son,
And two Northumberlands; two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound:
With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and
Montague,

That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion,
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat,
And made our footstool of security.—
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy:
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself,
Have in our armors watch'd the winter's night;
Went all a-foot in summer's scalding heat,
That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace:
And of our labors thou shalt reap the gain.

Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid;
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave:
And heave it shall some weight, or break
my back:-
Work thou the way,--and thou shalt execute.

[Aside. K. Edw. Clarence and Gloster, love my lovely

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Reignier, her father, to the king of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
K. Edw. Away with her, and waft her hence to
France.

And now what rests, but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
Such as befit the pleasures of the court?-
Sound, drums and trumpets!-farewell, sour annoy!
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. [Exeunt.
• Select.

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SCENE I.-London. A Street.

Enter GLOSTER.

ACT I

Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds, that low'r'd upon our house,
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled
front;

And now, instead of mounting barbed2 steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,-
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I,-that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;

, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty,

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable,

Dances.

2 Armed.

That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;-
Why I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time;
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity;
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,-
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days,-
Plots have I laid, inductions3 dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence, and the king.
In deadly hate the one against the other;
And, if king Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up;
About a prophecy, which says-that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! here Clarence :

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GA Upon what cause? Clar

Because my name is-George 6. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours; He should, for that, commit your godfathers:tehke his majesty hath some intent,

That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower
But what's the matter, Clarence? may 1 know?
Cur. Yea, Richard, when I know: for I protest,
As yet I do not: But, as I can learn,
Hexarkens after prophecies and dreams;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says-a wizard told him, that by G
dsissue disinherited should be;

And, for my name of George begins with G,
follows in his thought that I am he:
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these,
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now.

Why, this it is, when men are rul'd by

Women:

Te not the king that sends you to the Tower; ky lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, 'tis she,

I tempers him to this extremity.

Was it not she, and that good man of worship,
Antony Woodeville, her brother there,

That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower;
From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe.

Cur. By heaven, I think, there is no man secure, the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds Tat fridge betwixt the king and mistress Shore. Heard you not what an humble suppliant Lid Hastings was to her for his delivery! 60% Humbly complaining to her deity, fot my lord chamberlam his liberty.

tell you what,-I think it is our way, we will keep in favor with the king, To be her men, and wear her livery:

The pealous o'er-worn widow, and herself,4

More that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen, A mighty gossips in this monarchy.

Bruk. I beseech your graces both to pardon me; Fjesty hath straitly given in charge, That no man shall have private conference, at degree soever, with his brother.

. Even so? an please your worship, Braken

bury,

You may partake of any thing we say:

We speak no treason, man;-We say, the king
se, and virtuous; and his noble queen
#suck m years; fair, and not jealous:
ay, that Shore's wile hath a pretty foot,
Adany up,

Amy eye, a passing pleasing tongue;

the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks: say you, sir! can you deny all this! Bruk. With this, my lord, myself have naught

to do.

Go. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I tell thee, fellow,

Be that doth naught with her, excepting one,
We test to do it secretly, alone.

Bruk. What one, my lord?

6. Her husband, knave:-Wouldst thou betray me?

Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal,

Fortear your conference with the noble duke. Car. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

6. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. ther, farewell: I will unto the king; And whatsoever you will employ me in,Here it to call king Edward's widow-sister,l perform it to entranchise you. Kean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood, Tches me deeper than you can imagine. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. Well, your imprisonment shall not be

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Jong;

Fad deliver you, or else lie for you:
Kran time, have patience.
I must perforce; farewell.
Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard.
Gle. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er

return,

ple, plain Clarence!-I do love thee so, Tail will shortly send thy soul to heaven,

aven will take the present at our hands. who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings? The queen and Shore.

Enter HASTINGS.

Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain! Well are you welcome to this open air. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners

must:

But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks,
That were the cause of my imprisonment.

Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;

For they, that were your enemies, are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him as you.
Hast. More pity that the eagle should be mew'd
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. O, he hath kept an evil diet long,

And over-much consumed his royal person; 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. What, is he in his bed?

Hast.

He is.

Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.
[Exit HASTINGS.

He cannot live, I hope; and must not die,
Till George be pack'd with post-horse 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 me to bustle in!

For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.
What though I kill'd her husband, and her father?
-to become her husband, and her father:
The readiest way to make the wench amends,
The which will I; 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 breathics; Edward still lives, and

reigns;

When they are gone, then must I count my gains. [Exit

SCENE II.-Another Street. Enter the Corpse of KING HENRY the Sixth, borne in an open Cofin; Gentlemen bearing Halberds, to guard it; and LADY ANNE as Mourner. Anne. Set down, set down your honorable load,If honor 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! 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 thes

wounds!

Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,
I pour 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 diretul 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 hopeiul 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 With becoming reverence for the dead.

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 inake 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 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 not; for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.-
Avaut, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have; therefore, begone.
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 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, 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 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.

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 excus'd;

others.

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
That didst unworthy slaughter
Glo. Say, that I slew them not?

Anne.

upon

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 murd'rous falchion 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!
, 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 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 bosom. Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my checks.

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 revenged on thee. Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural,

To be revenged on him that loveth thee.

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be revenged 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

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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 mira Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike the 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 hath drawn sa tears,

Shamed their aspects with store of childish arg
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear-
Nor when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made,
When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at hi
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 teact
And what these sorrows could not hence exhale.
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with wood

ing.

I never sued to friend, nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet soothing won
But now thy beauty is propos'd my tee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue t
speak. [She looks scornfully of kak
Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was inase
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive
Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointe 1 sword:
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast,
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon ray & wee.

[He lays his Breasi opoffer i ulv
with his Sword.
• Pitying

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