Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  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