GLO. I know so.-But, gentle lady Anne,To leave this keen encounter of our wits, And fall somewhat 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.

GLO. Your beauty was the cause of that effect; Your beauty, which 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.

GLO. These eyes could not endure that beauty's wreck,

You should not blemish it if I stood by:

As all the world is cheered by the

So I by that; it is my day, my life.

sun,

ANNE. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life!

GLO. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.

ANNE. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee. GLO. 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. GLO. 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.

GLO. He lives that loves you better than he could.

ANNE. Name him.

Why that was he.

GLO. The self-same name, but one of better

nature.

ANNE. Where is he?

GLO.

Here: [She spits at him] Why

dost thou spit at me?

ANNE. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!

GLO. 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. GLO. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

ANNE. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

GLO. 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,-
Not, 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 su'd to friend, nor enemy;

E

My tongue could never learn sweet soothing 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,
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,

I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

[He lays his breast open; she offers at it
with his sword.

Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry:-
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young
Edward: [She again offers at his breast.
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.

[She lets fall the sword. Take up the sword again, or take up me. ANNE. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,

I will not be thy executioner.

GLO. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.

ANNE. I have already.

GLO.

That was in thy rage:

Speak it again, and even with the word,

This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;

To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
ANNE. I would, I knew thy heart.
GLO.

My tongue.

'Tis figur'd in

ANNE. I fear me, both are false.

Then man

GLO.

Was never true.

ANNE.

Well, well, put up your sword.

GLO. Say then, my peace is made.

I hope, live so.

GLO.

Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

ANNE. To take, is not to give.

[She puts on the ring. GLO. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. And if thy poor devoted servant may

But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
ANNE. What is it?

GLO. That it may please you leave these sad
designs

To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby-place:
Where-after I have solemnly interr'd,
At Chertsey monast'ry, this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,—
I will with all expedient duty see you:
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

ANNE. With all my heart; and much it joys me too,

To see you are become so penitent.-
Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me."
GLO. Bid me farewell.

'Tis more than you deserve:

ANNE.

But, since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.

K. RICHARD III, A. 1, s. 2.

BEAUTY WITHOUT PRINCIPLE.

MINE eyes

Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;

Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming: it had been

vicious,

To have mistrusted her.

CYMBELINE, A. 5, s. 5.

BEGETTING A KNOWLEDGE OF
HUMAN NATURE.

I KNOW you all, and will awhile uphold
The unyok'd humour of your idleness;
Yet herein will I imitate the sun;
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wondered at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists.
Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;