thou spit at me?
Anne. 'Would it were mortal poi
Glo. Never came poison from fo f
Anne. Never hung poison on a fo
Out of my fight! thou dost infect r
Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, hav
Anne. 'Would they were bafilisks
Glo. I would they were, that I n
For now they kill me with a living
Those eyes of thine from mine have
Sham'd their aspécts with store of c
These eyes, which never shed remon
Not, when my father York and Ed

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, nor enemy;

My tongue could never learn fweet soothing word;

But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee,

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

[She looks fcornfully at him.

Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made
For kiffing, lady, not for fuch 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 breaft,
And let the foul 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 bis sword.

Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry;
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.

Nay, now defpatch: 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward ;[She again offers at his breaft.

But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.

[Sbe lets fall the fword.

Take up the fword again, or take up me.

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

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

Anne. Αει 1.

KING RICHARD 111.

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.

13

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 fervant 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 designs
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,

And presently repair to Crosby-place:
Where-after I have folemnly interr'd,
At Chertsey monast'ry, this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,-

Towards Chertsey, noble lord ?

White-Fryars; there attend my coming.

[Exeunt the reft, with the corse.

nan in this humour woo'd?

man in this humour won?

- but I will not keep her long.

at kill'd her husband, and his father,

n her heart's extremest hate;

n her mouth, tears in her eyes,

witness of her hatred by;

er confcience, and these bars against me,

ends to back my suit withal,

devil, and dissembling looks,
in her, all the world to nothing!

ot already that brave prince,

lord, whom I, some three months since,

y angry mood at Tewksbury?

d a lovelier gentleman,

e prodigality of nature,

Lut, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,world cannot again afford:

And