[♦] And humbly beg the death upon my knee. [He lays his breast open: she offers at it with his sword.
[180] Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry,
But ’twas thy beauty that provoked me.
[♦] Nay, now dispatch; ’twas I that stabb’d young Edward,
[♦] But ’twas thy heavenly face that set me on. [Here she lets fall the sword.
[♦] Take up the sword again, or take up me.
185 Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
[♦] I will not be the executioner.
Glou. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Anne. I have already.