The Same. A Room in the DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S House. |
| |
Enter GLOUCESTER and his DUCHESS. |
| Duch. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn |
| Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load? |
| Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, |
| As frowning at the favours of the world? |
| Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth, |
| Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? |
| What scest thou there? King Henry's diadem |
| Enchas'd with all the honours of the world? |
| If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face, |
| Until thy head be circled with the same. |
| Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold: |
| What! is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine; |
| And having both together heav'd it up, |
| We'll both together lift our heads to heaven, |
| And never more abase our sight so low |
| As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. |
| Glo. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord, |
| Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts: |
| And may that thought, when I imagine ill |
| Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, |
| Be my last breathing in this mortal world! |
| My troublous dream this night doth make me sad. |
| Duch. What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll requite it |
| With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. |
| Glo. Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court, |
| Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot, |
| But, as I think, it was by the cardinal; |
| And on the pieces of the broken wand |
| Were plac'd the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset, |
| And William De la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk. |
| This was my dream: what it doth bode, God knows. |
| Duch. Tut! this was nothing but an argument |
| That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester's grove |
| Shall lose his head for his presumption. |
| But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke: |
| Methought I sat in seat of majesty |
| In the cathedral church of Westminster, |
| And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd; |
| Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me, |
| And on my head did set the diadem. |
| Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright: |
| Presumptuous dame! ill-nurtur'd Eleanor! |
| Art thou not second woman in the realm, |
| And the protector's wife, belov'd of him? |
| Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, |
| Above the reach or compass of thy thought? |
| And wilt thou still be hammering treachery, |
| To tumble down thy husband and thyself |
| From top of honour to disgrace's feet? |
| Away from me, and let me hear no more. |
| Duch. What, what, my lord! are you so choleric |
| With Eleanor, for telling but her dream? |
| Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself, |
| And not be check'd. |
| Glo. Nay, be not angry; I am pleas'd again. |
| |
Enter a Messenger. |
| Mess. My Lord Protector, 'tis his highness' pleasure |
| You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban's, |
| Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk. |
| Glo. I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us? |
| Duch. Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently. [Exeunt GLOUCESTER and Messenger. |
| Follow I must; I cannot go before, |
| While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind. |
| Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, |
| I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks |
| And smooth my way upon their headless necks; |
| And, being a woman, I will not be slack |
| To play my part in Fortune's pageant. |
| Where are you there? Sir John! nay, fear not, man, |
| We are alone; here's none but thee and I. |
| |
Enter HUME. |
| Hume. Jesus preserve your royal majesty! |
| Duch. What sayst thou? majesty! I am but Grace. |
| Hume. But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice, |
| Your Grace's title shall be multiplied. |
| Duch. What sayst thou, man? hast thou as yet conferr'd |
| With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch, |
| With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? |
| And will they undertake to do me good? |
| Hume. This they have promised, to show your highness |
| A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground, |
| That shall make answer to such questions |
| As by your Grace shall be propounded him. |
| Duch. It is enough: I'll think upon the questions. |
| When from Saint Alban's we do make return |
| We'll see these things effected to the full. |
| Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man, |
| With thy confed' rates in this weighty cause. [Exit. |
| Hume. Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold; |
| Marry and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume! |
| Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum: |
| The business asketh silent secrecy. |
| Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch: |
| Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil. |
| Yet have I gold flies from another coast: |
| I dare not say from the rich cardinal |
| And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk; |
| Yet I do find it so: for, to be plain, |
| They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour, |
| Have hired me to undermine the duchess |
| And buzz these conjurations in her brain. |
| They say, 'A crafty knave does need no broker;' |
| Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker. |
| Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near |
| To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. |
| Well, so it stands; and thus, I fear, at last |
| Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wrack, |
| And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall. |
| Sort how it will I shall have gold for all. [Exit. |
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