And his physicians fear him mightily.

RIC. Now, by faint Paul, this 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.

What, is he in his bed?

HAS. He is.

RIC. Go you

before. and I will follow you.

[Exit HASTINGS.

He cannot live, I hope; and must not die,

'Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies 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 readiest 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 must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market:
Clarence ftill breaths; Edward still lives, and reigns;
When they are gone, then must I count my gains.
[Exit RICHARD.

SCENE II. The fame. Another Street.
Enter the Corpfe of Henry the fixth, born in an open
Coffin, and fenderly attended: Gentlemen, bearing

Halberds, with it; and Lady ANNE,
as Mourner.

ANN. Set down, fet down your honourable load,—
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,-
Whilft I a while obfequioufly lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.—

[Bearers fet down the Coffin.

Poor key-cold figure of a holy king,
Pale afhes 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 flaughter'd fon,

Stab'd by the self-fame hand that made these wounds.
Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,

I

pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes:

O, curfed be the hand, that made these holes!
Curfed the heart, that had the heart to do it!
Curfed 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 afpéct

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, towards Chertsey with your holy load,

Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
And, ftill as you are weary of the weight,
Reft you, whiles I lament king Henry's corfe.
Bearers take up the Corpfe, and move forward:
Enter RICHARD.

RIC. Stay, you that bear the corfe, and set it down. ANN. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Ric. Villains, fet down the corfe; or, by faint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

1. G. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Ric. Unmanner'd dog, ftand thou when I command: Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,

Or, by faint Paul, I'll ftrike thee to my foot, And fpurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.' [Corpfe fet down.

ANN. 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 minister of hell! Thou hadft but power over his mortal body, His foul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone. Ric. Sweet faint, for charity, be not fo curft. ANN. Foul devil, for God's fake, hence, and trouble

us not;

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 butcheries : —
O, gentlemen, fee, fee! 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 mad'ft, revenge his death!
O earth, which this blood drink'ft, revenge his death!
Either, heaven, with lightning strike the murtherer dead;
Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick;
As thou doft fwallow up this good king's blood,
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!
RIC. Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, bleffings for curfes.
ANN. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man;
No beast fo fierce, but knows fome touch of pity.
RIC. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
ANN. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!
Rie. More wonderful, when angels are fo angry:
Vouchfafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these fupposed evils, to give me leave,
By circumftance, but to acquit myself.

ANN. Vouchfafe, diffus'd infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,

By circumstance, to curfe thy curfed felf.

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

ANN. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canftmake

No excufe current, but to hang thyself.

RIC. By fuch defpair, I fhould accuse myself.

ANN. And, by defpairing, fhalt thou ftand excus'd;

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
That didit unworthy flaughter upon others.

RIC. Say, that I flew them not ?

ANN. Then fay, they were not flain :
But dead they are, and, devilish flave, by thee.
I did not kill your husband.

RIC.

ANN. Why, then he is alive.

RIC. Nay, he is dead; and flain by Edward's hand. ANN. In thy foul throat thou ly'ft; queen Margaret 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.

RIC. I was provoked by her fland'rous tongue,
Which lay'd their guilt upon my guiltlefs fhoulders.
ANN. Thou waft provoked by thy bloody mind,
Which never dreamt on ought but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this

RIC. I grant ye.

king?

[me too, ANN. Doft grant me, hedge-hog? then, God grant Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed! O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.

RIC. The fitter for the king of heaven that hath him. ANN. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. RIC. Let him thank me, that holp to fend him thither;

For he was fitter for that place, than earth.

ANN. And thou unfit for any place, but hell.

RIC. Yes, one place elfe, if you will hear me name it. ANN. Some dungeon.

RIC. Your bed-chamber.

ANN. Ill reft betide the chamber where thou ly'ft! RIC. So will it, madam, 'till I lye with you.

ANN. I hope fo.

RIC. I know fo. But, gentle lady Anne,