These eyes, which never shed remorseful 1 tear,- Told the sad story of my father's death; 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, speak. My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; 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. 1 Pitying. Nay, do not pause, for I did kill king Henry ;- Nay, now despatch: 'twas I that stabb'd young Ed ward; [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. Glos. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Anne. I have already. Glos. 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. Anne. To take is not to give. [she puts on the ring. Glos. 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: But beg one favor at thy gracious hand, Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. Anne. What is it? Glos. That it may please you leave these sad de signs To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, 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. Glos. 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. Glos. Sirs, take up the corse. Gen. Towards Chertsey, noble lord? A house in Bishopsgate-street belonging to the duke of Glos. No, to White-Friars; there attend my coming. [Exeunt the rest with the corse. Was ever woman in this humor woo'd? Was ever woman in this humor won? I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. 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! ah! Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewkesbury? A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,— Framed in the prodigality of nature, Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,- That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? My dukedom to a beggarly denier,1 A small French coin. I do mistake my person all this while : [Exri. SCENE 111. The same. A room in the palace. Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD RIVERS, and LORE GREY. Ri. Have patience, madam; there's no doubt, his majesty Will soon recover his accustom'd health. Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse: Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, Grey. No other harm, but loss of such a lord. Q. Eli. The loss of such a lord includes all harms. |