[♦] As miserable by the death of him
[♦] As I am made by my poor lord and thee!
[♦] Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
30 Taken from Paul’s to be interred there;
[♦] And still, as you are weary of the weight,
[♦] Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry’s corse.
Enter GLOUCESTER.
Glou. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.
Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend,
35 To stop devoted charitable deeds?