Come, madam, come. I in all haste was sent

Stanley, to Anne
Come, madam, come. I in all haste was sent.
Anne
And I with all unwillingness will go.
O, would to God that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal that must round my brow
Were red-hot steel to sear me to the brains!
Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
And die ere men can say “God save the Queen.”
Queen Elizabeth
Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory.
To feed my humor, wish thyself no harm.

Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
Within so small a time my woman’s heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words
And proved the subject of mine own soul’s curse,

Anne
No? Why? When he that is my husband now
Came to me as I followed Henry’s corse,
When scarce the blood was well washed from his hands
Which issued from my other angel husband
And that dear saint which then I weeping followed—
O, when, I say, I looked on Richard’s face,
This was my wish: be thou, quoth I, accursed
For making me, so young, so old a widow;
And, when thou wedd’st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife, if any be so mad,
More miserable by the life of thee
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord’s death.
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
Within so small a time my woman’s heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words
And proved the subject of mine own soul’s curse,
Which hitherto hath held my eyes from rest,
For never yet one hour in his bed
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,
But with his timorous dreams was still awaked.
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick,
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.
Queen Elizabeth
Poor heart, adieu. I pity thy complaining.
Anne
No more than with my soul I mourn for yours.
Dorset
Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory.
Anne
Adieu, poor soul that tak’st thy leave of it.