For now they kill me with a living death. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, And twenty times made pause, to sob, and weep, And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word; My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, 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. Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry; But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward;- [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. Glo. Then bi me kill myself, and I will do it. Gle. That was in thy rage: Speak it again, and, even with the word, This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love, To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary. Glo. 'Tis figur'd in I fear me, both are false. I hope, live so. Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. Anne. To take, is not to give. [She puts on the Ring. 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. But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. Anne. What is it? Glo. That it may please you 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 monast'ry 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 Berkley, go along with me. Glo. Bid me farewel. K Anne. But, since you teach me how to flatter you, 'Tis more than you deserve: [Exeunt Lady ANNE, Tress. and Berk. Glo. Take up the corse, sirs. Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord? Glo. No, to White-Fryars; there attend my coming. [Exeunt the rest, with the corse. 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. With God, her conscience, and these bars against me, But the plain devil, and dissembling looks,, Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, Fram'd in the prodigality of nature, Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,- And will she yet abase her eyes on me, That cropp'd 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 misshapen thus? My dukedom to a beggarly denier, I do mistake my person all this while : I will maintain it with some little cost. But, first, I'll turn yon' fellow in his grave; SCENE III. The same. A Room in the Palace. [Exit. Enter Queen ELIZABETH, Lord RIVERS, and Lord GREY. Riv. 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, And cheer his grace with quick and merry words. Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of me? Grey. No other harm, but loss of such a lord. Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all harms. Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son, To be your comforter, when he is gone. Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young; and his minority Enter BUCKINGHAM and STANLEY. Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley. Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace! Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you have been! To your good prayer will scarcely say-amen. Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe Or, if she be accus'd on true report, Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amendment, lords? Buck. Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully. Q. Eliz. God grant him health! Did you confer with him? Buck. Ay, madam; he desires to make atonement Q. Eliz. 'Would all were well!-But that will never be; I fear, our happiness is at the height. Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET. Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it :Who are they, that complain unto the king, That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not? By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly, That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair, Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, I must be held a rancorous enemy. Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm, But thus his simple truth must be abus'd By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks? Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks your grace? Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace. When have I injur'd thee? when done thee wrong ?— Or thee?or thee?-or any of your faction? A plague upon you all! His royal grace,— But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the matter: |