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

Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

Gen. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.
Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I com-

mand :
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.

Anne. What, do you tremble 7 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.

Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trou.

ble 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 :-
Oh, 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 deed, 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


Os, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick; 230 As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered !

Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor

man ; No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.

Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no beast. Anne. O wonderful, whe devils tell the truth !

Glo. More wonderful, when angels are so Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,

240 Of these supposed evils, to give me leave, By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self, .

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name theę, 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. Glo. By such despair, I should accuse myself. 250


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Act l,


Scene 2.

Gither ,heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead,
Or, earth.gape open


, and eat him quèk24

London Printed for J.B ell, Britim Library Strand Dec 31 1785.

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