GLOUCESTER
Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud;
And after summer evermore succeeds
Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold;
So cares and joys abound as seasons fleet.
Sirs, what’s o’clock?
SERVANT Ten, my lord.
GLOUCESTER
Ten is the hour that was appointed me
To watch the coming of my punished Duchess;
Uneath may she endure the flinty streets,
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook
The abject people gazing on thy face
With envious looks, laughing at thy shame,
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels
When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets.
But soft, I think she comes; and I’ll prepare
My tear-stained eyes to see her miseries.
Enter the Duchess, Dame Eleanor Cobham, barefoot,
with a white sheet about her, written verses pinned
on her back, and carrying a wax candle in her
hand; she is accompanied by the [two Sheriffs] of
London, and Sir John Stanley, and officers with bills
and halberds
SERVANT (to Gloucester) So please your grace, we’ll take her from the sheriffs.
GLOUCESTER
No, stir not for your lives, let her pass by.
DUCHESS
Come you, my lord, to see my open shame?
Now thou dost penance too. Look how they gaze,
See how the giddy multitude do point
And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee.
Ah, Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful looks,
And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame,
And ban thine enemies—both mine and thine.
GLOUCESTER
Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.
DUCHESS
Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself;
For whilst I think I am thy married wife,
And thou a prince, Protector of this land,
Methinks I should not thus be led along,
Mailed up in shame, with papers on my back,
And followed with a rabble that rejoice
To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet,
And when I start, the envious people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.
Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke?
Trowest thou that e’er I’ll look upon the world,
Or count them happy that enjoys the sun?
No, dark shall be my light, and night my day;
To think upon my pomp shall be my hell.
Sometime I’ll say I am Duke Humphrey’s wife,
And he a prince and ruler of the land;
Yet so he ruled, and such a prince he was,
As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn Duchess,
Was made a wonder and a pointing stock
To every idle rascal follower.
But be thou mild and blush not at my shame,
Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death
Hang over thee, as sure it shortly will.
For Suffolk, he that can do all in all
With her that hateth thee and hates us all,
And York, and impious Beaufort that false priest,
Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings,
And fly thou how thou canst, they’ll tangle thee.
But fear not thou until thy foot be snared,
Nor never seek prevention of thy foes.
GLOUCESTER
Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest all awry.
I must offend before I be attainted,
And had I twenty times so many foes,
And each of them had twenty times their power,
All these could not procure me any scathe
So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.
Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach?
Why, yet thy scandal were not wiped away,
But I in danger for the breach of law.
Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell.
I pray thee sort thy heart to patience.
These few days’ wonder will be quickly worn.
Enter a Herald
HERALD I summon your grace to his majesty’s parliament holden at Bury the first of this next month.
GLOUCESTER
And my consent ne’er asked herein before?
This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. Exit Herald
My Nell, I take my leave; and, Master Sheriff,
Let not her penance exceed the King’s commission.
⌈FIRST⌉ SHERIFF
An’t please your grace, here my commission stays,
And Sir John Stanley is appointed now
To take her with him to the Isle of Man.
GLOUCESTER
Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here?
STANLEY
So am I given in charge, may’t please your grace.
GLOUCESTER
Entreat her not the worse in that I pray
You use her well. The world may laugh again,
And I may live to do you kindness if
You do it her. And so, Sir John, farewell. 85
⌈Gloucester begins to leave⌉
DUCHESS
What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell?
GLOUCESTER
Witness my tears—I cannot stay to speak.
Exeunt Gloucester and his men
DUCHESS
Art thou gone too? All comfort go with thee,
For none abides with me. My joy is death—
Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard,
Because I wished this world’s eternity.
Stanley, I prithee go and take me hence.
I care not whither, for I beg no favour,
Only convey me where thou art commanded.
STANLEY
Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man,
There to be used according to your state.
DUCHESS
That’s bad enough, for I am but reproach;
And shall I then be used reproachfully?
STANLEY
Like to a duchess and Duke Humphrey’s lady,
According to that state you shall be used.
DUCHESS
Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare,
Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.
⌈FIRST⌉ SHERIFF
It is my office, and, madam, pardon me.
DUCHESS
Ay, ay, farewell—thy office is discharged.
⌈Exeunt Sheriffs ⌉
Come, Stanley, shall we go?
STANLEY
Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet,
And go we to attire you for our journey.
DUCHESS
My shame will not be shifted with my sheet—
No, it will hang upon my richest robes
And show itself, attire me how I can.
Go, lead the way, I long to see my prison. Exeunt
3.1 Sound a sennet. Enter to the parliament: enter two heralds before, then the Dukes of Buckingham and Suffolk, and then the Duke of York and Cardinal Beaufort, and then King Henry and Queen Margaret, and then the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, ⌈With attendants ⌉
KING HENRY
I muse my lord of Gloucester is not come.
“Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,
Whate’er occasion keeps him from us now.
QUEEN MARGARET
Can you not see, or will ye not observe,
The strangeness of his altered countenance?
With what a majesty he bears himself?
How insolent of late he is become?
How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself?
; We know the time since he was mild and affable,
And if we did but glance a far-off look,
Immediately he was upon his knee,
That all the court admired him for submission.
But meet him now, and be it in the morn
When everyone will give the time of day,
He knits his brow, and shows an angry eye,
And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee,
Disdaining duty that to us belongs.
Small curs are not regarded when they grin,
But great men tremble when the lion roars—
And Humphrey is no little man in England.
First, note that he is near you in descent,
And, should you fall, he is the next will mount.
Meseemeth then it is no policy,
Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears
And his advantage following your decease,
That he should come about your royal person,
Or be admitted to your highness’ Council.
By flattery hath he won the commons’ hearts,
And when he please to make commotion,
“Tis to be feared they all will follow him.
Now ‘tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted;
Suffer them now, and they’ll o’ergrow the garden,
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
The reverent care I bear unto my lord
Made me collect these dangers in the Duke.
If it be fond, call it a woman’s fear;
Which fear, if better reasons can supplant,
I will subscribe and say I wronged the Duke.
My lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York,
Reprove my allegation if you can,
Or else conclude my words effectual.
SUFFOLK
Well hath your highness seen into this Duke,
And had I first been put to speak my mind,
I think I should have told your grace’s tale.
The Duchess by his subornation,
Upon my life, began her devilish practices;
Or if he were not privy to those faults,
Yet by reputing of his high descent,
As next the King he was successive heir,
And such high vaunts of his nobility,
Did instigate the bedlam brainsick Duchess
By wicked means to frame our sovereign’s fall.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep,
And in his simple show he harbours treason.
The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.
(To King Henry)
No, no, my sovereign, Gloucester is a man
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT (to King Henry)
Did he not, contrary to form of law,
Devise strange deaths for small offences done?
YORK (to King Henry)
And did he not, in his Protectorship,
Levy great sums of money through the realm
For soldiers’ pay in France, and never sent it,
By means whereof the towns each day revolted?
BUCKINGHAM (to King Henry)
Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown,
Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke
Humphrey.
KING HENRY
My lords, at once: the care you have of us
To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot
Is worthy praise, but shall I speak my conscience?
Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent
From meaning treason to our royal person
As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove.
The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given
To dream on evil or to work my downfall.
QUEEN MARGARET
Ah, what’s more dangerous than this fond affiance?
Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrowed,
For he’s disposed as the hateful raven.
Is he a lamb? His skin is surely lent him,
For he’s inclined as is the ravenous wolf.
Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit?
Take heed, my lord, the welfare of us all
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.
Enter the Duke of Somerset
SOMERSET ⌈kneeling before King Henry⌉
All health unto my gracious sovereign.
KING HENRY
Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France?
SOMERSET
That all your interest in those territories
Is utterly bereft you—all is lost.
KING HENRY
Cold news, Lord Somerset; but God’s will be done.
⌈Somerset rises⌉
YORK (aside)
Cold news for me, for I had hope of France,
As firmly as I hope for fertile England.
Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud,
And caterpillars eat my leaves away. 90
But I will remedy this gear ere long,
Or sell my title for a glorious grave.
Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester
GLOUCESTER ⌈kneeling before King Henry⌉
All happiness unto my lord the King.
Pardon, my liege, that I have stayed so long.
SUFFOLK
Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art come too soon 95
Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art.
I do arrest thee of high treason here.
GLOUCESTER ⌈rising⌉
Well, Suffolk’s Duke, thou shalt not see me blush,
Nor change my countenance for this arrest.
A heart unspotted is not easily daunted.
The purest spring is not so free from mud
As I am clear from treason to my sovereign.
Who can accuse me? Wherein am I guilty?
YORK
“Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France,
And, being Protector, stayed the soldiers’ pay,
By means whereof his highness hath lost France.
GLOUCESTER
Is it but thought so? What are they that think it?
I never robbed the soldiers of their pay,
Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
So help me God, as I have watched the night,
Ay, night by night, in studying good for England,
That doit that e’er I wrested from the King,
Or any groat I hoarded to my use,
Be brought against me at my trial day I
No: many a pound of mine own proper store,
Because I would not tax the needy commons,
Have I dispursèd to the garrisons,
And never asked for restitution.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT
It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.
GLOUCESTER
I say no more than truth, so help me God.
YORK
In your Protectorship you did devise
Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of,
That England was defamed by tyranny.
GLOUCESTER
Why, ’tis well known that whiles I was Protector
Pity was all the fault that was in me,
For I should melt at an offender’s tears,
And lowly words were ransom for their fault.
Unless it were a bloody murderer,
Or foul felonious thief that fleeced poor passengers,
I never gave them condign punishment.
Murder, indeed—that bloody sin—I tortured
Above the felon or what trespass else.
SUFFOLK
My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answered,
But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge
Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.
I do arrest you in his highness’ name,
And here commit you to my good lord Cardinal
To keep until your fu
rther time of trial.
KING HENRY
My lord of Gloucester, ’tis my special hope
That you will clear yourself from all suspense.
My conscience tells me you are innocent.
GLOUCESTER
Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous.
Virtue is choked with foul ambition,
And charity chased hence by rancour’s hand.
Foul subornation is predominant,
And equity exiled your highness’ land.
I know their complot is to have my life,
And if my death might make this island happy
And prove the period of their tyranny,
I would expend it with all willingness.
But mine is made the prologue to their play,
For thousands more that yet suspect no peril
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.
Beaufort’s red sparkling eyes blab his heart’s malice,
And Suffolk’s cloudy brow his stormy hate;
Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue
The envious load that lies upon his heart;
And dogged York that reaches at the moon,
Whose overweening arm I have plucked back,
By false accuse doth level at my life.
(To Queen Margaret)
And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,
Causeless have laid disgraces on my head,
And with your best endeavour have stirred up
My liefest liege to be mine enemy.
Ay, all of you have laid your heads together—
Myself had notice of your conventicles—
And all to make away my guiltless life.
I shall not want false witness to condemn me,
Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt.
The ancient proverb will be well effected:
‘A staff is quickly found to beat a dog’.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT (to King Henry)
My liege, his railing is intolerable.
If those that care to keep your royal person
From treason’s secret knife and traitor’s rage
Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
And the offender granted scope of speech,
‘Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.
SUFFOLK (to King Henry)
Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here
With ignominious words, though clerkly couched,
As if she had suborned some to swear
False allegations to o’erthrow his state?
QUEEN MARGARET
But I can give the loser leave to chide.
GLOUCESTER
Far truer spoke than meant. I lose indeed;
Beshrew the winners, for they played me false!
And well such losers may have leave to speak.
BUCKINGHAM (to King Henry)
He’ll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day.
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 32
