Well are you welcome to the open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?
Haft. With patience, noble lord, as pris'ners must:
But I fhall live, my lord, to give them thanks,
That were the caufe of my imprisonment.
Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and fo fhall Clarence too;
For they, that were your enemies, are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him as you.
Haft. More pity, that the Eagle fhould be mew'd,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
Glo. What news abroad?
Haft. No news fo bad abroad, as this at home:
The King is fickly, weak, and melancholy,
And his Phyficians fear him mightily.
Glo. Now, by St. Paul, that news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And over-much confum'd his royal perfon: 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. Where is he, in his bed?
Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.
[Exit Haftings He cannot live, I hope; and must not die,
'Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heav'n.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With Lyes well fteel'd with weighty arguments;
And if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live:
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in!
For then, I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter:
What though I kill'd her husband, and her father:
The readieft way to make the wench amends,
Is to become her husband and her father:
The which will I, not all fo much for love,
As for another fecret close intent,
By marrying her, which I muft reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market :
Clarence ftill breathes, Edward ftill lives and reigns;
When they are gone, then must I count my Gains. [Exit.
SCENE
SCENE changes to a Street.
Enter the Coarfe of Henry the Sixth, with Halberds to guard it, Lady Anne being the Mourner.
Anne. ET down, fet down your honourable load,
If honour may be shrouded in a herse;
Whilft I awhile obfequiously lament
Th' untimely Fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor key-cold figure of a holy King!
Pale afhes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be't lawful, that I invocate thy ghoft,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy flaughter'd fon;
Stabb'd by the felf-fame hand, that made these wounds.
Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.
Curs'd be the hand, that made these fatal holes!
Curs'd be the heart, that had the heart to do it!
More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, fpiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
-Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whole 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 be made
More miserable by the death of him,
Than I am made by my young lord and thee!
Come, now tow'rds Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there.
And ftill, as you are weary of this weight,
Reft you, while I lament King Henry's Coarfe.
Enter Richard Duke of Gloucefter.
Glo. Stay you, that bear the Coarfe, and fet it down.
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! ftand thou, when I command;
Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,
Or, by St. Paul, I'll 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 devil.
Avant, thou dreadful minifter of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His foul thou canst not have; therefore be gone.
Glo. Sweet Saint, for charity, be not fo curft.
Anne. Foul Dev'l! for God's fake hence, trouble us
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 butclieries.
Oh, gentlemen! fee! fee dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afreth.
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.
Or Heav'n with lightning ftrike the murth'rer dead,
Or Earth gape open wide, and eat him quick;
As thou doft iwallow 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 beast so fierce, but knows fome touch of pity.
Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no beaft.
Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!-
Glo. More wonderful, when angels are fo angry
Vouchfafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of thefe fuppofed crimes, to give me leave,
By circumftance, but to acquit myself.
Anne. Vouchfafe, diffus'd infection of a man,
For 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 leisure to excufe myself.
Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
No excufe current, but to hang thyfelf.
Glo. By fuch defpair I fhould accufe myself.
Anne. And by defpairing fhalt thou ftand excus'd,
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself;
That didit unworthy flaughter upon others.
Glo. Say, that I flew them not.
Anne. Then fay, they were not flain:
But dead they are; and, devilish flave, 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 lyft. Queen Margret faw
Thy murd'rous faulchion fmoaking in his blood:
The which thou once didft bend against her breast,
But that thy Brothers beat afide the point.
Glo. I was provoked by her fland'rous tongue,
That laid their guilt upon my guiltlefs fhoulders.
Anne. Thou waft provoked by thy bloody mind,
That never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didft thou not kill this King?
Anne. Doft grant me, hedge-hog? then God grant
'Thou may'ft be damned for that wicked deed! O, he was gentle, mild and virtuous.
Glo. The fitter for the King of heav'n, that hath him. Anne. He is in heav'n, where thou shalt never come.
Glo. Let him thank me, that help'd 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.
Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber, where thou lyest.
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 cause of that effect:
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 sweet bosom.
Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails fhould rend that beauty from my cheeks.
Glo. These eyes could not endure fweet beauty's wreck.
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 thyfelf, 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 juft 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,
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