You should not blemish it, if I stood by:
As all the world is cheeréd by the sun,

So I by that; it is my day, my life.

Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life!

Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.

Anne. I would I were, to be revenged on thee. Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural, To be revenged on him that loveth you.

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be revenged on him that slew 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.

Anne.

Plantagenet.

Why, that was he.

Glo. The selfsame name, but one of better nature.

[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 my 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 aspéct with store of childish drops:

These eyes, which 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 bedashed 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 words; But, now thy beauty is proposed my fee,

speak.

My proud heart sues and prompts my tongue to [She looks scornfully at him. Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were 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 bosom,
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 provokéd me. Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabbed young Edward,

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.

Tush, 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 thou shalt be accessary.
Anne. I would I knew thy heart.
Glo. 'Tis figured 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 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.

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 suppliant may

But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
Anne What is it?

Glo. 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 interred

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.

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.

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 BERKELEY. Glo. Sirs, take up the corse.

Gent.

Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

Glo. No, to Whitefriars; there attend my coming.

[Exeunt all but GLOSTER.

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 killed 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;

Having God, her conscience, and these bars against

me,

And I no thing to back my suit withal

But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!

Hath she forgot already that brave prince,

Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, Stabbed 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 debase her eyes on me,

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

On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety!
On me, that halt and am unshapen thus ?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,

I do mistake my person all this while :
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass,
And entertain some score or two of tailors
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.—
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The Palace.

Enter Queen ELIZABETH, Lord RIVERS, and Lord

GREY.

Riv. Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty

Will soon recover his accustomed health.

Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him

worse: