He layes his brest open, she offers at with his sword.
Nay do not pause: For I did kill King Henrie,
But 'twas thy Beauty that prouoked me.
Nay now dispatch: 'Twas I that stabb'd yong Edward,
But 'twas thy Heauenly face that set me on.
She fals the Sword.
Take vp the Sword againe, or take vp me
An. Arise Dissembler, though I wish thy death,
I will not be thy Executioner
Rich. Then bid me kill my selfe, and I will do it
An. I haue already
Rich. That was in thy rage:
Speake it againe, and euen with the word,
This hand, which for thy loue, did kill thy Loue,
Shall for thy loue, kill a farre truer Loue,
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary
An. I would I knew thy heart
Rich. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue