Complete Plays, The (261 page)

Warwick

What plain proceeding is more plain than this?
Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt,
The fourth son; York claims it from the third.
Till Lionel’s issue fails, his should not reign:
It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee
And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock.
Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together;
And in this private plot be we the first
That shall salute our rightful sovereign
With honour of his birthright to the crown.

Both

Long live our sovereign Richard, England’s king!

York

We thank you, lords. But I am not your king
Till I be crown’d and that my sword be stain’d
With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster;
And that’s not suddenly to be perform’d,
But with advice and silent secrecy.
Do you as I do in these dangerous days:
Wink at the Duke of Suffolk’s insolence,
At Beaufort’s pride, at Somerset’s ambition,
At Buckingham and all the crew of them,
Till they have snared the shepherd of the flock,
That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey:
’Tis that they seek, and they in seeking that
Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.

Salisbury

My lord, break we off; we know your mind at full.

Warwick

My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick
Shall one day make the Duke of York a king.

York

And, Nevil, this I do assure myself:
Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick
The greatest man in England but the king.

Exeunt

S
CENE
III. A
HALL
OF
JUSTICE
.

Sound trumpets. Enter King Henry VI, Queen Margaret, Gloucester, York, Suffolk, and Salisbury; the Duchess, Margaret Jourdain, Southwell, Hume, and Bolingbroke, under guard

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

S
CENE
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 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,
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

A
CT
III

S
CENE
I. T
HE
A
BBEY
AT
B
URY
S
T
. E
DMUND
’
S
.