[They take up the bier.]
Enter Richard, Duke of Gloucester.
RICHARD.
Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.
ANNE.
What black magician conjures up this fiend
To stop devoted charitable deeds?
RICHARD.
Villains, set down the corse or, by Saint Paul,
I’ll make a corse of him that disobeys!
GENTLEMAN.
My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.
RICHARD.
Unmannered dog, stand thou, when I command!
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or by Saint Paul I’ll strike thee to my foot
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
[They set down the bier.]
ANNE.
What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body;
His soul thou canst not have; therefore begone.
RICHARD.
Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.