Henry VI, Part II

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 the King, the Queen, Cardinal Beaufort, Suffolk, York, Buckingham, Salisbury and Warwick to the Parliament.


King

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

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 is 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 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