LADY ANNE
Set down, set down your honourable load,
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I awhile 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 selfsame hand that made these wounds!
Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.
Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes!
Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it!
Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence!
More direful 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 hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness!
If ever he have wife, let her he made
A miserable by the death of him
As I am made by my poor lord and thee!
Come, now towards 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.

    GLOUCESTER
Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

    LADY ANNE
What black magician conjures up this fiend,
To stop devoted charitable deeds?

    GLOUCESTER
Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,
I’ll make a corse of him that disobeys.

    GENTLEMAN
My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

    GLOUCESTER
Unmanner’d dog! stand thou, when I command:
Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I’ll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

    LADY 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.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone.

    GLOUCESTER
Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

    LADY 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 madest, 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!

    GLOUCESTER
Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

    LADY ANNE
Villain, thou know’st no law of God nor man:
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

    GLOUCESTER
But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

    LADY ANNE
O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

    GLOUCESTER
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.

    LADY ANNE
Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

    GLOUCESTER
Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

    LADY ANNE
Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

    GLOUCESTER
By such despair, I should accuse myself.

    LADY ANNE
And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused;
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

    GLOUCESTER
Say that I slew them not?

    LADY ANNE
                Why, then they are not dead:
But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee.

    GLOUCESTER
I did not kill your husband.

    LADY ANNE
                        Why, then he is alive.

    GLOUCESTER
Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward’s hand.

    LADY ANNE
In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw
Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood;
The which thou once didst bend against her breast,
But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

    GLOUCESTER
I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
Which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

    LADY ANNE
Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?

    GLOUCESTER
                                I grant ye.

    LADY ANNE
Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too
Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous!

    GLOUCESTER
The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him.

    LADY ANNE
He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

    GLOUCESTER
Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither;
For he was fitter for that place than earth.

    LADY ANNE
And thou unfit for any place but hell.

    GLOUCESTER
Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

    LADY ANNE
Some dungeon.

    GLOUCESTER
                                Your bed-chamber.

    LADY ANNE
I’ll rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

    GLOUCESTER
So will it, madam till I lie with you.

    LADY ANNE
I hope so.

    GLOUCESTER
        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?

    LADY ANNE
Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect.

    GLOUCESTER
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.

    LADY ANNE
If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

    GLOUCESTER
These eyes could never endure sweet 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.

    LADY ANNE
Black night o’ershade thy day, and death thy life!

    GLOUCESTER
Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both.

    LADY ANNE
I would I were, to be revenged on thee.

    GLOUCESTER
It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be revenged on him that loveth you.

    LADY ANNE
It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be revenged on him that slew my husband.

    GLOUCESTER
He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
Did it to help thee to a better husband.

    LADY ANNE
His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

    GLOUCESTER
He lives that loves thee better than he could.

    LADY ANNE
Name him.

    GLOUCESTER
                        Plantagenet.

    LADY ANNE
                                        Why, that was he.

    GLOUCESTER
The selfsame name, but one of better nature.

    LADY ANNE
Where is he?

    GLOUCESTER
                                Here.        [She spitteth at him]
Why dost thou spit at me?

    LADY ANNE
Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!

    GLOUCESTER
Never came poison from so sweet a place.

    LADY ANNE
Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.

    GLOUCESTER
Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

    LADY ANNE
Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

    GLOUCESTER
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 aspect with store of childish drops:
These eyes that never shed remorseful tear,
No, 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 smoothing word;
But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.

    LADY ANNE
Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
I will not be the executioner.

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

    LADY ANNE
I have already.

    GLOUCESTER
                                Tush, that was in thy rage:
Speak it again, and, even with the word,
That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary.

    LADY ANNE
I would I knew thy heart.

    GLOUCESTER
’Tis figured in my tongue.

    LADY ANNE
I fear me both are false.

    GLOUCESTER
Then never man was true.

    LADY ANNE
Well, well, put up your sword.

    GLOUCESTER
Say, then, my peace is made.

    LADY ANNE
That shall you know hereafter.

    GLOUCESTER
But shall I live in hope?

    LADY ANNE
All men, I hope, live so.

    GLOUCESTER
Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

    LADY ANNE
To take is not to give.

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

    LADY ANNE
What is it?

    GLOUCESTER
That it would please thee leave these sad designs
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 monastery 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.

    LADY ANNE
With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

    GLOUCESTER
Bid me farewell.

    LADY ANNE
                        ’Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.

    GLOUCESTER
Sirs, take up the corse.

    GENTLEMEN
                    Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

    GLOUCESTER
No, to White-Friars; there attend my coming.