King Henry VI
Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester’s wife:
In sight of God and us, your guilt is great:
Receive the sentence of the law for sins
Such as by God’s book are adjudged to death.
You four, from hence to prison back again;
From thence unto the place of execution:
The witch in Smithfield shall be burn’d to ashes,
And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.
You, madam, for you are more nobly born,
Despoiled of your honour in your life,
Shall, after three days’ open penance done,
Live in your country here in banishment,
With Sir John Stanley, in the Isle of Man.
Duchess
Welcome is banishment; welcome were my death.
Gloucester
Eleanor, the law, thou see’st, hath judged thee:
I cannot justify whom the law condemns.
Exeunt Duchess and other prisoners, guarded
Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!
I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go;
Sorrow would solace and mine age would ease.
King Henry VI
Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester: ere thou go,
Give up thy staff: Henry will to himself
Protector be; and God shall be my hope,
My stay, my guide and lantern to my feet:
And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved
Than when thou wert protector to thy King.
Queen Margaret
I see no reason why a king of years
Should be to be protected like a child.
God and King Henry govern England’s realm.
Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm.
Gloucester
My staff? here, noble Henry, is my staff:
As willingly do I the same resign
As e’er thy father Henry made it mine;
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it
As others would ambitiously receive it.
Farewell, good king: when I am dead and gone,
May honourable peace attend thy throne!
Exit
Queen Margaret
Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret queen;
And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself,
That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once;
His lady banish’d, and a limb lopp’d off.
This staff of honour raught, there let it stand
Where it best fits to be, in Henry’s hand.
Suffolk
Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays;
Thus Eleanor’s pride dies in her youngest days.
York
Lords, let him go. Please it your majesty,
This is the day appointed for the combat;
And ready are the appellant and defendant,
The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,
So please your highness to behold the fight.
Queen Margaret
Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore
Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried.
King Henry VI
O God’s name, see the lists and all things fit:
Here let them end it; and God defend the right!
York
I never saw a fellow worse bested,
Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,
The servant of this armourer, my lords.
Enter at one door, Horner, the Armourer, and his Neighbours, drinking to him so much that he is drunk; and he enters with a drum before him and his staff with a sand-bag fastened to it; and at the other door Peter, his man, with a drum and sand-bag, and ’Prentices drinking to him
First Neighbour
Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack: and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough.
Second Neighbour
And here, neighbour, here’s a cup of charneco.
Third Neighbour
And here’s a pot of good double beer, neighbour: drink, and fear not your man.
Horner
Let it come, i’ faith, and I’ll pledge you all; and a fig for Peter!
First ’Prentice
Here, Peter, I drink to thee: and be not afraid.
Second ’Prentice
Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master: fight for credit of the ’prentices.
Peter
I thank you all: drink, and pray for me, I pray you; for I think I have taken my last draught in this world. Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron: and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer: and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. O Lord bless me! I pray God! for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt me so much fence already.
Salisbury
Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows.
Sirrah, what’s thy name?
Peter
Peter, forsooth.
Salisbury
Peter! what more?
Peter
Thump.
Salisbury
Thump! then see thou thump thy master well.
Horner
Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man’s instigation, to prove him a knave and myself an honest man: and touching the Duke of York, I will take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the king, nor the queen: and therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow!
York
Dispatch: this knave’s tongue begins to double.
Sound, trumpets, alarum to the combatants!
Alarum. They fight, and Peter strikes him down
Horner
Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason.
Dies
York
Take away his weapon. Fellow, thank God, and the good wine in thy master’s way.
Peter
O God, have I overcome mine enemy in this presence?
O Peter, thou hast prevailed in right!
King Henry VI
Go, take hence that traitor from our sight;
For his death we do perceive his guilt:
And God in justice hath revealed to us
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow,
Which he had thought to have murder’d wrongfully.
Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.
Sound a flourish. Exeunt
SCENE IV. A STREET.
Enter Gloucester and his Servingmen, in mourning cloaks
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?
Servants
Ten, my lord.
Gloucester
Ten is the hour that was appointed me
To watch the coming of my punish’d 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-stain’d eyes to see her miseries.
Enter the Duchess in a white sheet, and a taper burning in her hand; with Stanley, the Sheriff, and Officers
Servant
So please your grace, we’ll take her from the sheriff.
Gloucester
No, stir not, for your lives; let her pass by.
Duchess
Come you, my l
ord, 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,
Mail’d 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?
Trow’st thou that e’er I’ll look upon the world,
Or count them happy that enjoy 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 ask’d 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.
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!
Duchess
What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell!
Gloucester
Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak.
Exeunt Gloucester and Servingmen
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 afear’d,
Because I wish’d 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.
Sheriff
It is my office; and, madam, pardon me.
Duchess
Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharged.
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
ACT III
SCENE I. THE ABBEY AT BURY ST. EDMUND’S.
Sound a sennet. Enter King Henry VI, Queen Margaret, Cardinal, Suffolk, York, Buckingham, Salisbury and Warwick to the Parliament
King Henry VI
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 alter’d 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 every one 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 as the next will mount.
Me seemeth 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 fear’d 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 wrong’d 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 practises:
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 brain-sick 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.
No, no, my sovereign; Gloucester is a man
Unsounded yet and full of deep deceit.
Cardinal
Did he not, contrary to form of law,
Devise strange deaths for small offences done?
York
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
Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown.
Which time will bring to light in smooth
Duke Humphrey.
King Henry VI
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 Somerset
Somerset
All health unto my gracious sovereign!
King Henry VI
Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France?
Somerset
That all your interest in those territories
Is utterly bereft you; all is lost.
King Henry VI
Complete Plays, The Page 209