Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it!

No more than from my soul I mourn for yours.

No! why? When he that is my husband now
Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse,
When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands
Which issued from my other angel husband
And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd;
O, when, I ...

And I in all unwillingness will go.
I would to God that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal that must round my brow
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain!
Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
And die, ere men can say, God save the queen!

Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!

Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:
Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame
And take thy office from thee, on my peril.

No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess,
Upon the like devotion as yourselves,
To gratulate the gentle princes there.

God give your graces both
A happy and a joyful time of day!

'Tis more than you deserve;
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.

With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

What is it?

To take is not to give.

All men, I hope, live so.

That shall you know hereafter.

Well, well, put up your sword.

I fear me both are false.

I would I knew thy heart.

I have already.

Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
I will not be the executioner.

Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.

Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!

Where is he?

Why, that was he.

Name him.

His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be revenged on him that slew my husband.

I would I were, to be revenged on thee.

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

If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect.

I hope so.

I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

Some dungeon.

And thou unfit for any place but hell.

He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too
Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous!

Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?

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.

Why, then he is alive.

Why, then they are not dead:
But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee.

And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused;
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

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

O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man:
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

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 ...

What, do you tremble? 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.

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

Set down, set down your honourable load,
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be it lawful ...