The Same. A Street. |
|
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: |
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: |
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, |
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 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. |
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, |
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. |
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, |
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. |
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 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 |
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 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, |
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, |
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. |
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. |
Her. I summon your Grace to his majesty's parliament, holden at Bury the first of this next month. |
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; |
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 |
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. |
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; |
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: |
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. |
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. |
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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