KING RICHARD III. William Shakespeare

corse.

       [The Bearers take up the Corpse and advance.]

       [Enter GLOSTER.]

       GLOSTER

       Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

       ANNE

       What black magician conjures up this fiend,

       To stop devoted charitable deeds?

       GLOSTER

       Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,

       I’ll make a corse of him that disobeys!

       FIRST GENTLEMAN

       My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

       GLOSTER

       Unmanner’d dog! stand thou, when I command:

       Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,

       Or, by Saint Paul, I’ll strike thee to my foot

       And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

       [The Bearers set down the coffin.]

       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.—

       Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!

       Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,

       His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone.

       GLOSTER

       Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

       ANNE

       Foul devil, for God’s sake, hence and trouble us not;

       For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,

       Fill’d 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 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 deeds, inhuman and unnatural,

       Provokes this deluge most unnatural.—

       O God, which this blood mad’st, revenge his death!

       O earth, which this blood drink’st, 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 king’s blood,

       Which his hell-govern’d arm hath butchered!

       GLOSTER

       Lady, you know no rules of charity,

       Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

       ANNE

       Villain, thou knowest nor law of God nor man:

       No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

       GLOSTER

       But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

       ANNE

       O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

       GLOSTER

       More wonderful when angels are so angry.—

       Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,

       Of these supposèd crimes to give me leave,

       By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

       ANNE

       Vouchsafe, diffus’d infection of a man,

       Of these known evils but to give me leave,

       By circumstance, to accuse thy cursèd self.

       GLOSTER

       Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have

       Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

       ANNE

       Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make

       No excuse current but to hang thyself.

       GLOSTER

       By such despair I should accuse myself.

       ANNE

       And by despairing shalt thou stand excus’d;

       For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,

       That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

       GLOSTER

       Say that I slew them not?

       ANNE

       Then say they were not slain:

       But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.

       GLOSTER

       I did not kill your husband.

       ANNE

       Why, then he is alive.

       GLOSTER

       Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward’s hand.

       ANNE

       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 brothers beat aside the point.

       GLOSTER

       I was provokèd by her slanderous tongue

       That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

       ANNE

       Thou wast provokèd by thy bloody mind,

       That never dreamt on aught but butcheries:

       Didst thou not kill this king?

       GLOSTER

       I grant ye.

       ANNE

       Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too

       Thou mayst be damnèd for that wicked deed!

       O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.

       GLOSTER

       The better for the king of Heaven, that hath him.

       ANNE

       He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

       GLOSTER

       Let him thank me that holp to send him thither,

       For he was fitter for that place than earth.

       ANNE

       And thou unfit for any place but hell.

       GLOSTER

       Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

       ANNE

       Some dungeon.

       GLOSTER

       Your bedchamber.

       ANNE

       Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

       GLOSTER

       So will it, madam, till I lie with you.

       ANNE

       I hope so.

       GLOSTER

       I know so.—But, gentle Lady Anne,—

       To leave this keen encounter