[♦] Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
[♦] His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone.
Glou. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
[50] Anne. Foul devil, for God’s sake, hence, and trouble us not;
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill’d it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
55 O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry’s wounds