Page 1206 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

O would to God that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal that must round my brow
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brains. [60]
Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
And die ere men can say ‘God save the Queen’.

ELIZABET H

Go, go, poor soul; I envy not thy glory.
To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.

ANNE

No? Why? When he that is my husband now [65]
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 dear saint which then I weeping follow’d;
O when, I say, I look’d on Richard’s face [70]
This was my wish: ‘Be thou’, quoth I, ‘accurs’d
For making me, so young, so old a widow;
And when thou wed’st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife - if any be so mad -
More miserable by the life of thee [75]
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord’s death.’
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
Within so small a time, my woman’s heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,
And prov’d the subject of mine own soul’s curse, [80]
Which hitherto hath held my eyes from rest;
For never yet one hour in his bed
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,
But with his timorous dreams was still awak’d.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick, [85]
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

ELIZABET H

Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining.

ANNE

No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.