LADY 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. O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh! Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity; For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells; Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, Provokes this deluge most unnatural. O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death! O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death! Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead, Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick, As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!