Mischance and sorrow go along with you!

Queen Margaret, calling after King Henry and
Warwick
Mischance and sorrow go along with you!
Heart’s discontent and sour affliction
Be playfellows to keep you company!
There’s two of you; the devil make a third,
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!
Suffolk
Cease, gentle queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch!
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?

Queen Margaret
Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch!
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?
Suffolk
A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them?
Could curses kill, as doth the mandrake’s groan,
I would invent as bitter searching terms,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Delivered strongly through my fixèd teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate,
As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave.
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words;
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;
Mine hair be fixed on end, as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban;
And even now my burdened heart would break
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste;
Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees;
Their chiefest prospect, murd’ring basilisks;
Their softest touch, as smart as lizards’ stings!
Their music, frightful as the serpent’s hiss,
And boding screech owls make the consort full!
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell—
Queen Margaret
Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment’st thyself,
And these dread curses, like the sun ’gainst glass,
Or like an over-chargèd gun, recoil
And turn the force of them upon thyself.