Mary. I know not.
Shakespeare. Though god and devil deny—you loved me then!
Mary. But was it love? I could have loved if you had taught me loving. Something I sought and found not; so I turned From searching. I have clean forgotten now That ever I sought—and so live merrily— And so will live! Why wreck myself for you?
Shakespeare. O heart’s desire, and eyes’, desire of hands, Self of myself, have pity!
Mary. What had you? If I had borne you children (but I was wise, Knowing my man, as men have taught me men) What name had you to give them, to give me? No, no, I wrong you, for you christened me But now, first having slain him who had struck The rankness from your mouth.
Shakespeare. What I have done—
Mary. Lied, lied to me! —and if I did—
Anne’s Voice. To hold you! I couldn’t lose you. I was mad with pain.
Mary. Tricked me—
Shakespeare. To hold—listen to me—to hold you! Lest I should lose you. I was mad with pain.