And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,
Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen.
Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam.
[To Dorset.] Take all the swift advantage of the hours; 48
You shall have letters from me to my son
In your behalf, to meet you on the way:
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.
Duch. York. O ill-dispersing wind of misery! 52
O my accursed womb, the bed of death!
A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murtherous!
Stan. Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent. 56
Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.
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!'
Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory;
To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. 64
Anne. 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 issu'd from my other angel husband, 68
And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd;
O! when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
This was my wish, 'Be thou,' quoth I, 'accurs'd,
For making me, so young, so old a widow! 72
And, when thou wedd'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife—if any be so mad—
More miserable by the life of thee
45 thrall: slave, victim
46 counted: accounted
54 cockatrice; cf. n.
58 verge: circle
72 old: i.e. old in sorrow
74 Cf. I. ii. 26–28
