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 try 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.

Anne. Why, that was he.

Glo. The self-same name, but one of better na

ture.

Anne. Where is he?

Glo. Here: [She spits at him.] Why dost thou spit at me?

Anne. Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! 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 mine. Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee

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 have drawn salt
tears.

Shamed their aspects with store of childish drops:
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,-
Not, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made,
When black-faced 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 sued to friend, nor enemy;

My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word; But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,

My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to [She looks scornfully at him.

speak.

• Pitiful.

Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful 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 soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

He lays his Breast open; she offers at
it with his Sword.
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry,-
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young
Edward; [She again offers at his Breast.
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.
[She lets fall the Sword.
Take up the sword again, or take up me.

Anne. Arise, dissembler; though I wish thy death, I will not be thy executioner.

Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Anne. I have already.

Glo. That was in thy rage:

Speak it again, and, even with the word,

This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love, Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;

To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.

Anne. I would, I knew thy heart.

Glo. 'Tis figured in

My tongue.

Anne. I fear me, both are false.

Glo. Then man

Was never true.

Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.
Glo. Say then, my peace is made.
Anne. That shall you know
Hereafter.

Glo. But shall I live in hope?
Anne. All men,

I hope, live so.

Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Anne. To take, is not to give.

[She puts on the

Ring.

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

Anne. What is it?

Glo. That it may please you leave these sad de

signs

To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby-place *:
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.

Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys me

too,

To see you are become so penitent.

Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me.
Glo. Bid me farewell.

Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve:

But, since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.

[Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkley.

Glo. Take up the corse, Sirs.

Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

Glo. No, to White-Friars; there attend my com[Exeunt the rest, with the Corse.

ing.

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 her hatred by;

With God, 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!

На!

Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,

Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,-
Framed in the prodigality of nature,

Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,-
The spacious world cannot again afford

And will she yet abase her eyes on me,

That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, And made her widow to a woful bed?

*In Bishopsgate-street.

VOL. IV.

Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace. When have injured thee? When done thee wrong?

Or thee?-or thee?-Or any of your faction?

A plague upon you all! His royal grace,

Whom God preserve better than you would wish !— Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while,

But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the matter:

The king, of his own royal disposition,
And not provoked by any suitor else;
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
That in your outward action shews itself,
Against my children, brothers, and myself,
Makes him to send ; and thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.

Glo. I cannot tell ;-The world is grown so bad, That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch: Since every Jack + became a gentleman,

There's many a gentle person made a Jack.

Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Gloster;

You envy my advancement, and my friends;
God grant, we never may have need of you!

Glo. Meantime, God grants that we have need of you:

Our brother is imprison'd by your means,

Myself disgraced, and the nobility

Held in contempt; while great promotions
Are daily given, to enoble those

That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble t.

Q. Eliz. By Him, that raised me to this careful

height

From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,

I never did incense his majesty

Against the duke of Clarence, but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.

My lord, you do me shameful injury,

Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.

Of

Glo. You may deny that you were not the cause my lord Hastings' late imprisonment.

Riv. She may, my lord; for

Glo. She may, lord Rivers?-Why, who knows

not so?

Rude, ignorant.

+ Low fellow.

A coin rated at 6s. 8d.

1

She may do more, Sir, than denying that:
She may help you to many fair preferments;
And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those honours on your high desert.
What may she not? She may,-ay, marry, may
she,-

Riv. What, marry, may she?

Glo. What, marry, may she? Marry with a king,
A bachelor, a handsome stripling too:
I wis your grandam had a worser match.

Q. Eliz. My lord of Gloster, I have too long borne
Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter scoffs:
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty,
Of those gross taunts I often have endured.
I had rather be a country servant-maid,
Than a great queen, with this condition-
To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at:
Small joy have I in being England's queen.

Enter Queen MARGARET, behind.

Q. Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I be
seech thee!

Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me.
Glo. What! Threat you ine with telling of the
king?

Tell him, and spare not; look, what I have said
I will avouch in presence of the king:
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
'Tis time to speak, my pains + are quite forgot.

Q. Mar. Out, devil! I remember them too well: -
Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower,
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.

Glo. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband
king,

I was a pack-horse in his great affairs;
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends;
To royalize this blood, I spilt mine own.

Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his, or

thine.

Glo. In all which time, you, and your husband
Grey,

Were factious for the house of Lancaster;-
And, Rivers, so were you :-Was not your husband
In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,

•Think.

↑ Labours.

† Make royal.