ANNE

Set down, set down your honourable load, If Honour may be shrouded in a Hearse; Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament the untimely fallen of Virtuous Lancaster. Poor key-cold Figure of a holy King, Pale Ashes 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 slaughtered Son, Stabbed by the selfsame hand that made these wounds. Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life, I pour the helpless Balm of my poor eyes. Oh cursed be the hand that made these holes: Cursed the Heart, that had the heart to do it: Cursed the Blood, that let this blood from hence: More direful hap betide that hated Wretch That makes us wretched by the death of thee, Then I can wish to Wolves, to Spiders, Toads, Or any creeping venomed thing that lives. If ever he have Child, Abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, Whose 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, Then I am made by my young Lord, and thee. Come now towards Chertsey with your holy Load, Taken from Pauls, to be interred there. And still as you are weary of this weight, Rest you, while I lament King Henries Coarse. 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 hadst but power over his Mortal body, His Soul thou canst not have: Therefore be gone. God give your Graces both, a happy And a joyful time of day. No farther then the Tower, and as I guess, Upon the Like devotion as your selves, To gratulate the gentle Princes there. Their Aunt I am in law, in love their Mother: Then bring me to their sights, I'll bear thy blame, And take thy Office from thee, on my peril. Despiteful tidings, Oh unpleasing news. And I with all unwillingness will go. Oh would to God, that the inclusive Verge Of Golden Mettle, that must round my Brow, Were read hight Steel, to sear me to the Brains, Anointed let me be with deadly Venom, And die ere men can say, God save the Queen. No: why? When he that is my Husband now, Came to me, as I followed Venries Corpse. When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands, Which issued from my other Angel Husband, And that deer Saint, which then I weeping followed: Oh, when I say I looked on Richard's Face, This was my Wish: Be thou (quoth I) accursed, For making me, so young, so old a Widow: And when thou weddest, let sorrow haunt thy Bed; And be thy Wife, if any be so mad, More miserable, by the Life of thee, Then thou hast made me, by my deer Lords death. Lo, ere I can repeat this Curse again, Within so small a time, my Woman's heart Grossly grew captive to his honey words, And proved the subject of mine own Souls Curse, Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest: For never yet one hour in his Bed Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep, But with his timorous Dreams was still awaked. Beside, he hates me for my Father Warwick, And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me. No more, then with my soul I mourn for yours. Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it. What black Magician conjures up this Fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds? Foul Devil, For Gods sake hence, and trouble us not, For thou hast made the happy earth thy Hell: Filled it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims: If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy Butcheries. O Gentlemen, see, see dead Henries wounds, Open their congealed mouths, and bleed afresh. Blush, blush, thou lump of fowl Deformity: For it's thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty Veins where no blood dwells. Thy Deeds inhumane and unnatural, Provokes this Deluge most unnatural. Oh God! which this Blood madest, revenge his death: Oh Earth! which this Blood drinkest, revenge his death. Either Heaven with Lightning strike the murderer dead: Or Earth gape open wide, and eat him quick, As thou dost swallow up this good Kings blood, Which his Hell-gouern'd arm hath butchered. Villain, thou knowest nor law of God nor Man, No Beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity. Oh wonderful, when devils tell the truth! Vouchsafe (defused infection of man) Of these known evils, but to give me leave By circumstance, to curse thy cursed Self. Fouler then heart can think thee, Thou canst make no excuse currant, But to hang thy self. And by despairing shalt thou stand excused, For doing worthy Vengeance on thy self, That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. Then say they were not slain: But dead they are, and devilish slave by thee. Why then he is alive. In thy foul throat thou Liest, Queen Margaret saw Thy murderous Falchion smoking in his blood: The which, thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy Brother's beat aside the point. Thou was't provoked by thy bloody mind, That never dreamest on ought but Butcheries: Didst thou not kill this King? Dost grant me Hedgehog, Then God grant me too Thou mayest be damned for that wicked deed, Oh he was gentle, mild, and virtuous. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. And thou unfit for any place, but hell. Some dungeon. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest. I hope so. Thou was't the cause, and most accursed effect. If I thought that, I tell thee Homicide, These Nails should rend that beauty from my Cheeks. Black night overshade thy day, & death thy life. I would I were, to be revenged on thee. It is a quarrel joust and reasonable, To be revenged on him that killed my Husband. His better does not breath upon the earth. Name him. Why that was he. Where is he? Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake. Never hung poison on a fouler Toad. Out of my sighed, thou dost infect mine eyes. Would they were Basilisks, to strike thee dead. Arise Dissembler, though I wish thy death, I will not be thy Executioner. I have already. I would I knew thy heart. I fear me, both are false. Well, well, put up your Sword. That shalt thou know hereafter. All men I hope live so. Vouchsafe to wear this Ring. What is it? With all my heart, and much it joys me too, To see you are become so penitent. Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me. It's more then you deserve: But since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I have said farewell already.