SCENE II. A Chamber. LADY ANNE discovered, sitting on a Couch. Lady A. When-when shall I have rest? Was marriage made To be the scourge of our offences here? Oh, no! 'twas meant a blessing to the virtuous; [Soft Music. It will not be; naught but the grave can close my But see, eyes. He comes-the rude disturber of my pillow. Enter GLOSTER. Glost. Ha! still in tears? let them flow on; theyre signs Of a substantial grief.-Why don't she die? She must; my interest will not let her live, them. All I can hope's to throw her into sickness, So, madam, what! you still take care, I see, I'll have you tell the world I dote upon you. Lady A. I wish I could-but 'twill not be believ'd. Have I deserv'd this usage? Glost. You have-you do not please me, as at first. Lady A. What have I done? What horrid crime committed? Glost. To me the worst of crimes; outliv'd my liking. Lady A. If that be criminal, just Hea'vn be kind, And take me while my penitence is warm; Oh, sir, forgive and kill me. Glost. Umph! no-the meddling world will call And I would have them think me pitiful: Lady A. How fain would I be friends with death! Glost. Thy husband's hate: nor do I hate thee, only From the dull'd edge of sated appetite, But from the eager love I bear another. Some call me hypocrite-what think'st, thou now? Do I dissemble? Lady A. Thy vows of love to me were all dissembled. Glost. Not one-for when I told thee so, I lov'd: Thou art the only soul I never yet deceiv'd; And 'tis my honesty that tells thee now, With all my heart I hate thee. If this have no effect, she is immortal! [Aside. Lady A. Forgive me, Heav'n, that I forgave this man. Oh may my story, told in after ages, sex's ears; Give warning to our easy May it unveil the hearts of men, and strike Enter CATESBY. Glost. Now, Catesby Catesby. My lord, his Grace of Buckingham attends your highness' pleasure. Glost. Wait on him-I'll expect him here. [Exit CATESBY. [Exit. Your absence, madam, will be necessary. [CATESBY passes over the back of the Stage, Enter BUCKINGHAM. My cousin, what say the citizens ? Buck. Now, by our hopes, my lord, they are senseless stones: Their hesitating fear has struck them dumb! Glost. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children? Buck. I did, with his contract to lady Lucy; Indeed left nothing that might gild our cause, Buck. Not one, by Heav'n-but each like statues Speechless and pale, star'd in his fellow's face: And ask'd the Mayor what meant this wilful silence? His answer was, the people were not us'd Glost. Oh tongueless blocks! would they not speak? Will not the Mayor then, and his brethren, come? Buck. The Mayor is here at hand-feign you some fear, And be not spoken with, but by mighty suit. wishes. I, as a child, will go by thy direction. Buck. Hark! the Lord Mayor's at hand-away, my lord; No doubt, but yet we reach our point propos'd. Enter LORD MAYOR and CITIZENS. [Exit. Buck. Welcome, my lord: I dance attendance here, I am afraid the duke will not be spoke withal. Enter CATESBY. Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request? Catesby. My lord, he humbly does entreat your grace To visit him to-morrow, or the next day: He's now retir'd with two right reverend fathers, And in no worldly suits would he be mov❜d, To interrupt his holy exercise. Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke: Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Citizens, In deep designs, in matters of great moment, No less importing than our general good, Are come to have some conference with his grace. Catesby. My lord, I'll instantly inform his high ness. Buck. Ah, my lord! this prince is not an Edward: He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed, But on his knees at meditation; Not dallying with a brace of courtezans; But with two deep divines in sacred praying: Lord M. Happy indeed, my lord. He will not, sure, refuse our proffer'd love? Buck. Alas, my lord! you know him not: his mind's Above this world-he's for a crown immortal. Look there, his door opens; now where's our hope? Lord. M. See where his grace stands, 'tween two clergymen ! Buck. Ay, ay, 'tis there he's caught-there's his ambition. Lord M. How low he bows, to thank them for their care! And see! a prayer-book in his hand! Buck. 'Would he were king, we'd give him leave to Methinks I wish it, for the love he bears the city. |