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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. |
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. |
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. |
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry, |
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. |
Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward, |
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