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The Same. A Street. | |
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Enter GLOUCESTER and Serving-men, in mourning cloaks. | |
| Glo. Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud; | |
| And after summer evermore succeeds | |
| Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: | 5 |
| So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet. | |
| Sirs, what’s o’clock? | |
| Serv. Ten, my lord. | |
| Glo. Ten is the hour that was appointed me | |
| To watch the coming of my punish’d duchess: | 10 |
| 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 still laughing at thy shame, | 15 |
| 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. | |
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Enter the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER, with papers pinned upon her back, in a white sheet, her feet bare, and a taper burning in her hand; SIR JOHN STANLEY, a Sheriff, and Officers. | 20 |
| Serv. So please your Grace, we’ll take her from the sheriff. | |
| Glo. No, stir not, for your lives; let her pass by. | |
| Duch. 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, | 25 |
| 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! | |
| Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief. | 30 |
| Duch. Ay, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself; | |
| For whilst I think I am thy wedded 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, | 35 |
| And follow’d 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. | 40 |
| 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. | 45 |
| Sometime I’ll say, I am Duke Humphrey’s wife; | |
| And he a prince and ruler of the land: | |
| Yet so he rul’d and such a prince he was | |
| As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn duchess, | |
| Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock | 50 |
| 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 | 55 |
| With her that hateth thee, and hates us all, | |
| And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest, | |
| Have all lim’d bushes to betray thy wings; | |
| And, fly thou how thou canst, they’ll tangle thee: | |
| But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar’d, | 60 |
| Nor never seek prevention of thy foes. | |
| Glo. 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, | 65 |
| All these could not procure me any scath, | |
| So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. | |
| Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach? | |
| Why, yet thy scandal were not wip’d away, | |
| But I in danger for the breach of law. | 70 |
| Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell: | |
| I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience; | |
| These few days’ wonder will be quickly worn. | |
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Enter a Herald. | |
| Her. I summon your Grace to his majesty’s parliament, holden at Bury the first of this next month. | 75 |
| Glo. 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. | |
| Sher. An ’t please your Grace, here my commission stays; | 80 |
| And Sir John Stanley is appointed now | |
| To take her with him to the Isle of Man. | |
| Glo Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here? | |
| Stan. So am I given in charge, may ’t please your Grace. | |
| Glo. Entreat her not the worse in that I pray | 85 |
| 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. | |
| Duch. What! gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell! | |
| Glo. Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. [Exeunt GLOUCESTER and Serving-men. | 90 |
| Duch. 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; | 95 |
| I care not whither, for I beg no favour, | |
| Only convey me where thou art commanded. | |
| Stan. Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man; | |
| There to be us’d according to your state. | |
| Duch. That’s bad enough, for I am but reproach: | 100 |
| And shall I then be us’d reproachfully? | |
| Stan. Like to a duchess, and Duke Humphrey’s lady: | |
| According to that state you shall be us’d. | |
| Duch. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare, | |
| Although thou hast been conduct of my shame. | 105 |
| Sher. It is my office; and, madam, pardon me. | |
| Duch. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharg’d. | |
| Come, Stanley, shall we go? | |
| Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet, | |
| And go we to attire you for our journey. | 110 |
| Duch. 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. | |
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