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

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.

Glo.

Anne.

Plantagenet.

Why, that was he.

Glo. The self-same name, but one of better nature.
Anne. Where is he?
Gło.

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;

Again, in King Henry IV, P. II: "I have read the cause of his effects in Galen."

Again, in Sidney's Arcadia, Book II:

"Both cause, effect, beginning, and the end,
"Are all in me." Steevens.

Our author, I think, in another place uses effect, for efficient

For now they kill me with a living death.1*
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 father3 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;4

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 soothing word ;5 But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee,

My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. [She looks scornfully at him.

2

- they kill me with a living death.] In imitation of this passage, and, I suppose, of a thousand more, Pope writes:

66

a living death I bear,

"Says Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair." Johnson.

So, in Watson's Sonnets, printed about 1580:

"Love is a sowre delight, a sugred griefe,

"A living death, an ever-dying life." Malone.

* So, in King Henry VI, P. II, Vol. X, p. 201, n. 4. Am. Ed. 2 These eyes, which never &c.] The twelve following beautiful lines added after the first editions. Pope.

They were added with many more. Johnson.

3 Not, when my father -) The old copies read-No, when, &c. The correction was made by Mr. Pope. I am not sure that it is

necessary.

This doubt derives strength from a subsequent passage :

"Duch. I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. “2. Eliz. But I hear, no." Malone.

4 My manly eyes did scorn &c.) Here is an apparent reference to King Henry VI, P. III, Act II, sc. i. See p. 316, n. 2.

5 - sweet soothing word;] Thus the quarto, 1598. The folio has-sweet smoothing word. Malone.

Smooth is, s. probably

probably, the true reading. So again, p. 32.

Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog."

See also, Pericles, Act I, sc. ii. Steevens.

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 Ed-
ward;- [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.

6 But 'twas thy beauty -) Shakspeare countenances the observation, that no woman can ever be offended with the mention of her beauty. Johnson.

7 Then man

Was never true.] Old copy

Then never man was true.

For the sake of measure, I have hazarded this slight transposition. Steevens.

Glo.

But shall I live in hope?

Anne.

All men,

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 causes 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 duty1 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 farewel.

Anne.

'Tis more than you deserve :

But, since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewel already.2

8

9

[Exeunt Lady ANNE, Tress. and Berk.

more cause-] The folio-most cause.

Steevens.

- Crosby-place:] A house near Bishopsgate-street, belong

ing to the Duke of Gloster. Johnson.

Crosby-Place is now Crosby-square in Bishopsgate-street; part of the house is yet remaining, and is a meeting place for a Presbyterian congregation. Sir J. Hawkins.

This magnificent house was built in the year 1466, by Sir John Crosby, grocer and woolman. He died in 1475. The ancient hall of this fabrick is still remaining, though divided by an additional floor, and incumbered by modern galleries, having been converted into a place of worship for Antinomians, &c. The upper part of it is now the warehouse of an eminent Packer.

Sir J. Crosby's tomb is in the neighbouring church of St. Helen the Great. Steevens.

1- with all expedient duty -) See Vol. VIII, p. 37, n. 6.

Malone

Glo. Take up the corse, sirs.
Gent.

Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

Glo. No, to White-Fryars; there attend my coming. [Exeunt the rest, with the corse

Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won?
I 'll have her, but I will not keep her long.
What! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father,
To take her in her heart's extremest hate;
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by;

With God, her conscience, and these bars against me;
And I no friends to back my suit withal,
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks,

And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!

Hath she forgot already that brave prince,

Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,

2 Imagine I have said farewel already.] Cibber, who altered King Richard III, for the stage, was so thoroughly convinced of the ridiculousness and improbability of this scene, that he thought himself obliged to make Tressel say:

When future chronicles shall speak of this,
They will be thought romance, not history.

Thus also, in Twelfth Night, where Fabian observing the conduct of Malvolio, says: "If this were played upon a stage now, 1 could condemn it as an improbable fiction."

su

From an account of our late unsuccessful embassy to the Em. peror of China, we learn, indeed, that a scene of equal absurdity was represented in a theatre at Tien-sing: "One of the dramas, particularly, attracted the attention of those who recollected scenes, somewhat similar, upon the English stage. The piece represented an Emperor of China and his Empress living in preme felicity, when, on a sudden, his subjects revolt, a civil war ensues, battles are fought, and at last the arch-rebel, who was a general of cavalry, overcomes his sovereign, kills him with his own hand, and routs the imperial army. The captive Empress then appears upon the stage in all the agonies of despair, naturally resulting from the loss of her husband and of her dignity, as well as the apprehension for that of her honour. Whilst she is tearing her hair, and rending the skies with her complaints, the conqueror enters, approaches her with respect, addresses her in a gentle tone, soothes her sorrows with his compassion, talks of love and adoration, and like Richard the Third, with Lady Anne in Shakspeare, prevails in less than half an hour, on the Chinese Princess to dry up her tears, to forget her deceased consort, and yield to a consoling wooer." Steevens.