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 of our wits,
And fall something into a slower method,—
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner?
ANNE
Thou wast the cause and most accurs’d effect.
GLOSTER
Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.
ANNE
If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.
GLOSTER
These eyes could not endure that beauty’s wreck;
You should not blemish it if I stood by:
As all the world is cheerèd by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.
ANNE
Black night o’ershade thy day, and death thy life!
GLOSTER
Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.
ANNE
I would I were, to be reveng’d on thee.
GLOSTER
It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be reveng’d on him that loveth thee.
ANNE
It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be reveng’d on him that kill’d my husband.
GLOSTER
He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
Did it to help thee to a better husband.
ANNE
His better doth not breathe upon the earth.
GLOSTER
He lives that loves thee better than he could.
ANNE
Name him.
GLOSTER
Plantagenet.
ANNE
Why, that was he.
GLOSTER
The selfsame name, but one of better nature.
ANNE
Where is he?
GLOSTER
Here.
[She spits at him.]
Why dost thou spit at me?
ANNE
Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!
GLOSTER
Never came poison from so sweet a place.
ANNE
Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes.
GLOSTER
Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.
ANNE
Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead!
GLOSTER
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,
Sham’d their aspects with store of childish drops:
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,
No, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
When black-fac’d 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 su’d to friend nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;
But, now thy beauty is propos’d my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.
[She looks scornfully at him.]
Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was 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 breast
