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.
