Page 1116 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

Where is he?

RICHARD

Here. Spits at him.
Why dost thou spit at me?

ANNE

Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake.

RICHARD

Never came poison from so sweet a place. [150]

ANNE

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

RICHARD

Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

ANNE

Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead.

RICHARD

I would they were, that I might die at once; [155]
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,
No, when my father York and Edward wept [160]
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, [165]
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. [170]