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Anne. What black Magician conjures up this Fiend, To ftop devoted charitable Deeds?

Glo. Villains, fet down the Coarfe; or by St. Paul,
I'll make a Coarse of him that disobeys.

Gen. My Lord, ftand back, and let the Coffin pafs.
Glo. Unmanner'd Dog,

Stand thou when I command:

Advance thy Halbert higher than my Breaft,
Or by St. Paul, l'1 ftrike thee to my Foot,
And fpurn upon thee, Beggar, for thy boldness.
Anne. What do you tremble? are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal,
And mortal Eyes cannot endure the Devi!.
Avant, thou dreadful Minifter of Hell:
Thou hadft but power over his mortal Body,
His Soul thou canft not have; therefore be gone.
Glo. Sweet Saint, for Charity, be not fo curft.
Anne. Foul Devil!

For God's fake hence, and trouble us not,
For thou haft made the happy Earth thy Hell:
Fill'd it with curfing cries, and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous Deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy Butcheries.
Oh Gentlemen! fee! fee dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd Mouths, and bleed a fresh.
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul Deformity;
For 'tis thy prefence that exhales this Blood
From cold and empty Veins, where no blood dwells.
Thy Deeds inhuman, and unnatural,

Provoke this Deluge moft unnatural.

O God! which this Blood mad'ft, revenge his Death:
O Earth! which this Blood drink'ft, revenge his Death.
Either Heav'n with Lightning ftrike the Murth'rer dead,
Or Earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick,
As thou doft fwallow 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, Bleffings for Curfes.
Anne. Villain, thou know'ft nor law of God nor Man;
No Beaft fo fierce, but knows fome touch of pity.
Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no Beaft.

Anne.

Anne. O wonderful, when Devils tell the truth!
Glo. More wonderful, when Angels are fo angry:
Vouchfafe, divine perfection of a Woman,
Of these fuppofed Crimes, to give me leave,
By circumftance, but to acquit my self.

Anne. Vouchfafe, diffus'd infection of a Man,
Of these known evils, but to give me leave

By circumftance, to curfe thy curfed felf.

Glo. Fairer than Tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leifure to excuse my self.

Anne. Fouler than Heart can think thee,

Thou canst make no excufe that will be currant,
Unless thou hang thy felf.

Gle. By fuch defpair, I fhould accuse my self.
Anne. And by despairing fhalt thou stand excus'd,
For doing worthy Vengeance on thy self;
That didft unworthy flaughter upon others.
Glo. Say, that I flew them not,

Anne. Then fay, they were not flain:

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 flain by Edward's Hands.
Anne. In thy foul Throat thou ly'st,

Queen Margaret faw

Thy murd'rous Faulchion fmoaking in his Blood:
The which thou once didft bend against her Breaft,
But that thy Brothers beat afide the point.

Glo. I was provoked by her fland'rous Tongue,
That laid their guilt upon my guiltless Shoulders.
Anne. Thou waft provoked by thy bloody Mind,
That never dieam'it on ought but Butcheries:
Didft thou not kill this King?

Glo. I grant ye.

Anne. Doft grant me, Hedge-Hog,

Then God grant me too,

Thou may'ft be damned for that wicked Deed:
Ohe was gentle, mild and virtuous.

Glo. The better for the King of Heav'n that hath him. Anne. He is in Heav'n, where thou shalt never come.

Glo.

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. Il Reft betide the Chamber where thou lyeft.
Glo. So will it, Madam, 'till I lye with you.

Anne. I hope fo.

Glo. I know fo. But gentle Lady Anne,
To leave this keen encounter of our Wits,
And fall fomething into a flower method.
Is not the Caufer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the Executioner?

Anne. Thou waft the Cause, and most accurst effect.
Glo. Your Beauty was the Caufe of that effe&t:
Your Beauty that did haunt me in my fleep,

To undertake the Death of all the World,

So I might live one hour in your fweet Bosom.

Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, Homicide, Thefe Nails fhould rend that Beauty from my Cheeks. Glo. Thefe Eyes could not endure that Beauty's wrack, You should not blemish it, if I ftood by;

As all the World is cheered by the Sun,

So I by that; it is my Day, my Life.

Anne. Black night o'er-fhade thy Day, and death thy Life. Glo. Curfe not thy felf, fair Creature,

Thou art both.

Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee.
Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural,

To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be reveng'd 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 Earth.
Glo. He lives, that loves thee better than he could.
Anne. Name him.

Glo. Plantagenet.

Anne. Why that was he.

Glo.

Glo. The felf-fame Name, but one of better Nature.
Anne. Where is he?

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 Place.
Anne. Never hung Poison on a fouler Toad,
Out of my Sight, thou doft infe&t mine Eyes.
Glo. Thine Eyes, fweet Lady, have infected mine.
Anne. Would they 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.

Thofe Eyes of thine from mine have drawn falt Tears;
Sham'd their Afpects with ftore of childish Drops:
Thefe Eyes, which never fhed remorseful Tear,
No, when my Father Tork, and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous Moan that Rutland made,
When black-fac'd Clifford thook 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 Paufe to fob and weep,
That all the Standers by had wet their Cheeks,
Like Trees be-dafh'd with Rain: In that fad 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 a Friend, nor Enemy;

My Tongue could never learn fweet smoothing Words;
But now thy Beauty is propos'd my Fee,

My proud Heart fues, and prompts my Tongue to speak.
[She looks fcornfully at him.
Teach not thy Lip fuch Scorn, for it was made
For kiffing, Lady, not for fuch Contempt.
If thy revengeful Heart cannot forgive,
Lo here I lend thee this fharp-pointed Sword,
Which, if thou please to hide in this true Breaft,
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 paufe; for I did kill King Henry;

But

But 'twas thy Beauty that provoked me.

Nay, now dispatch: '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 wish thy Death,
I will not be thy Executioner.

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

Glo. That was in thy Rage:

Speak it again, and even with thy word,

This Hand, which for thy love, did kill thy Loye,
Shall for thy love, kill a far truer Love;
To both their Deaths fhalt thou be acceffary.
Anne. I would I knew thy Heart.
Glo. 'Tis figur'd in my Tongue.
Anne. I fear me, both are false.
Glo. Then never Man was true.
Anne. Well, well, put up your Sword.

Glo. Say then, my Peace is made.

Anne. That fhalt thou know hereafter.
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.
And if thy poor devoted Servant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou doft confirm this Happiness for ever.
Anne. What is it?

Glo. That it may please you leave these fad Designs
To him that hath moft caufe to be a Mourner,

And presently repair to Crosby House:
Where, after I have folemnly interr'd
At Chertsey Monaft'ry this noble King,
And wet his Grave with my repentant Tears,
I will with all expedient Duty fee you.
For divers unknown Reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this Boon.

Anne

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