GLOUCESTER
Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag!
QUEEN MARGARET
And leave out thee? Stay, dog! For thou shalt hear me.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace!
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul!
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature and the son of hell!
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins!
Thou rag of honour! thou detested--
GLOUCESTER
Margaret.
QUEEN MARGARET
Richard!
GLOUCESTER
Ha!
QUEEN MARGARET
I call thee not.
GLOUCESTER
I cry thee mercy then, for I had thought
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.
QUEEN MARGARET
Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply.
O, let me make the period to my curse!
GLOUCESTER
'Tis done by me, and ends in 'Margaret.'
QUEEN ELIZABETH
Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.
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