| 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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