University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick.
The SCENE the Duke of York's House, long Scrowles lying on a Table.
York.
Now my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick,
You have perus'd my Title to the Crown,
I pray deliver me both your opinions.

War.
My Lord, 'tis very plain, the Right is yours;
King Henry claimes the Crown from John of Gaunt,
Fourth Son of Edward the Third; Your Grace claims it
From Lyonell Duke of Clarence the Third Son:
Till Lyonell's Issue fails, his shou'd not Reign.
It failes not yet, but flourishes in you,
And in your Sons, fair Branches of your Stock.
My Lord of Salisbury kneel we together,
And in this private Room be we the first
That shall Salute our Lawful Soveraign,
With the honor of his Birth-right to the Crown.

Both.
Long live our Sovereign, Richard King of England.

York.
My Lords, I give you both my hearty thanks;
But I am not your King till I be Crown'd,
And my Sword stayn'd in the heart blood of all
The House of Lancaster; and that's not suddenly,
Nor very easily to be perform'd:
We must use Counsel, Secresy, and Courage:
Do you as I do in these dangerous days,
Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's Insolence;
At Beauford's Pride; at Somerset's Ambition;
At Buckingham, and all the Crew of e'm,
Till they have snar'd the good and wise Duke Hymphry,
Whose Vertues are so many Guardian Angels
Both to the King and Kingdom; his destruction
These ill Men seek, and they in seeking that
Shall find their own, if I can Prophesie.

Sal.
My Lord, let us break off, we know your Mind.

War.
There's something great within my breast that tells me,
The Day is coming, when the Earl of Warwick
Shall make the Duke of York the King of England.

Yo.
And I shall live to make the Earl of Warwick
The greatest Man in England but the King—

Exit.
The SCENE the Court.
Enter King and Queen, Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Glocester, Cardinal, Elianor, a Prisoner.
King.
Madam, stand forth, and hear your Sentence from me:
In sight of heaven and me your guilt is great;
A Crime, to which heavens Book adjudges Death:
Your Fellow Criminals shall suffer Death;
And 'tis notorious false reasoning
You shou'd be spar'd, because you are great and Noble;
The World is us'd to such false Reasonings,
And that's the cause there is so little Truth in it.
But I observe but few of the World's Customs,
Nor will I now be lead away in this.
Then hear my Sentence; since to your great Spirit
There is no pain like shame; I Sentence you
To bear the tort'ring shame of open Pennance:
And since to live depos'd of all your Honors
In some remote sad desolate obscurity,
Is to you pain like burying alive,
I Sentence you to spend your days in Banishment
With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.

Elia.
Welcome my Banishment; for I am sure
My doleful days will not be many there.

Glo.
Oh Wife! What hast thou brought upon thy self?
Did not I timely warn thee of Ambition;
And say, one day 'twou'd do some dismal deed?
The King has past a righteous Sentence on thee;
And none have reason to complain but I,
Who innocently suffer in thy shame:
My honor shares in all thy sad reproach,
And my love suffers in thy Banishment,
That I am punish'd equally with thee,
Though I am innocent; and yet the King
Does me no wrong at all: no Elianor,
I've reason to complain of none but thee,
Who woud'st not take the Counsels that I gave thee,
Out of dear Love to thee.

Elia.
I see my folly.

Glo.
Now hast thou brought dishonor on my age,
And shame and grief will sink me to my Grave.

Qu.
My Lord, my Lord, you can be sensible
Of your Wive's shame; but not of the dishonor
The King and I both suffer'd by her Insolence.
You weep, 'cause she must suffer an hours Pennance;
But she has made me suffer horrid Pennance
E'er since I was her Queen, both to my own,
And the King's shame and grief, that you ne'r wept for.
She must walk barefoot now upon the stones:
Time was, she trod on me, I was her way;
Which I endur'd to the King's shame and mine:
And you for that had very small regret.

Gl.
Madam, if for her Crimes, her too great Crimes,
The punishment the King has doom'd her to
Be not enough, pray Sentence her to more:
But let her know an end of punishment.
But if the Scale be full enough already,
As the just King, who poiz'd it well, conceives;
Do not be heaping till it grows injustice.

Qu.
My Lord, she deserves more then she shall suffer;
Only for the intolerable rudeness
Wherewith she treated me her Queen to day;
To call me to my Face a Beggars Daughter?
Suppose I were that miserable Beggar,
Is it well done to tread on Poverty?
But when by Birth heaven made me a great Princess,
And the King's Love made me a great Queen, her Queen,
For her to treat me so? Was that well done?

Suff.
Yes, Madam, 'twas well done for his Designs
Of making her your Queen, your Majesty her subject:
That they had such Designs, her present Crimes
Are a sufficient proofe; and they did well
To bring you to subjection by degrees.

Car.
All the reflection I shall make is this;
He who was Govern'd by so ill a Woman,
Is very unfit to be the Kingdoms Governor;
She was his Counsellor, the Devil hers;
Conjecture then what his Designs must be.

Glo.
Lord Cardinal, I am sure of your good Word;
I see what all of you thirst for, my ruine.
I had long since remov'd out of your way,
If duty to my King had not detain'd me:
I was afraid to trust him in your hands,
But I perceive my stay occasions him
Perpetual trouble; and the heavenly power.
Has an especial eye to Sacred Kings,
To his Protection then I'le leave the King,
If the King will permit me, and retire
To bear the heavy burden of my griefs.

Qu.
Pray do, my Lord, we'l take you at your word.
I see no reason, why a King of years
Shou'd be Protected like a little Child:
Resign your Staffe, and give the King his Kingdom,
The King by heaven's help may Govern it.

King.
Do, do my Lord, since they'l all have it so,
I shall not want a Counsel, or Protection,
For heaven is my hope, my stay, my guide.
And go in peace, less powerful, less great;
No less belov'd, by me, and all good Men.

Enter York.
Glo.
Then here, most Sacred Sovereign, is my Staffe;
As willingly do I resign it to you,
As e're your glorious Father made it mine.
As willingly I lay it at your feet,
As others wou'd ambitiously receive it,
Farewell, good King, may you, when I am dead,
Never have cause to shed one tear for me.
When is your Royal Pleasure that my Wife
Shall do her Pennance?

King.
Now, immediately.

Glo.
Come, Elianor, let us support our Sorrows;
Sorrow is natural to this Vale of Tears.
My fall will rather pleasure to me bring,
If it shall cause no sorrow to the King.

(Exit Glocester, Elianor with a Guard.
King.
Oh Lords, you have made me part with a good Man!
I wish I may never have need of him.

York.
How? Has the Duke resign'd the Government?

Qu.
Yes; Henry now is King; and I am Queen;
And Humphry Duke of Glocester scarce himself:
Two of his stately Branches are lopt from him;
His Wife is Banish'd, and his Staffe resign'd,
And he will shortly wither with the Mayme.

Yo.
As I wou'd wish: How have these haughty Lords
(aside.
Most subtilly wrought their own destruction?
For now the King lies open to my Sword;
But they shall perish with him for their Villanies.

A Shout: Enter Buckingham.
King.
Now! What's the News?

Buck.
May it please your Majesty,
The Combate 'tween the Armourer and his Man,
The Appellant, and Defendant has been fought,
According as your Majesty appointed:
Truth has prevail'd; the Guilty Armourer,
Worsted by his Servant, has confest the Treason.

King.
Where is the Fellow?

Buc.
They are both without.
Come in—

Enter Armorer and his Man with a Guard.
King.
What, Fellow, did you speak the words?

Arm.
Yes, please your Majesty.

King.
Yet you deny'd 'em.

Ar.
I was unwilling to be hang'd an't please you.

King.
But not unwilling to destroy thy Soul,
By spilling of an innocent Fellows blood,
As thou hast done, if right had not prevail'd.

Buck.
Sir, it was right indeed that did prevail;
I never saw poor Fellow so afraid,
As the Armorer's Servant was in all my life,
And yet he beate his Master, by his Innocence.

Arm.
It was my Conscience beate me, and not he;
If my own Conscience had not fought against me,
I cou'd have beaten twenty such as he.

Pet.
I do not know that, for though I was afraid
E're I came to it, now I know what it is,
I do not care if I have t'other bout.

King.
There's mischief in this Business, I discern it;
(Aside.
The Common People have been tamper'd with,
To try how they will like a change of Princes;
And to make way for it, my right is question'd,
And my good Lord Protector sent away from me.
Oh! heaven, if I be useful to my People,
Preserve me, for their sakes, from wicked Men;
If I be not, extend thy Providence
To them, and let what will become of me.
—Go lead that Traytor to the Death he merits,
Thou honest man, whose truth and innocence
Heaven has reveal'd, by me shall be rewarded.

Exit Omnes præ. Suffolk and the Queen.
Qu.
Now it goes excellently well indeed!
This haughty Woman tumbled in the dirt,
So far beneath my feet I cannot tread upon her.
Duke Humphrey's charming Rod broken in pieces;
Wherewith he kept, as in a Conjurers Circle,
The King and Kingdom both out of our reach.

Suff.
Did not I promise you there shou'd be nothing
In England, Madam, that your Soul cou'd wish for
I'd not make yours?

Qu.
And thou hast kept thy Word.

Suff.
I think I promis'd you, that wonderful,
That ravishing moment, when I first beheld you,
When Fortune prodigally propitious to me,
With Lawrels crown'd my Sword, my Arms with Beauty.
Flung Captive in my Arms such wondrous Beauty,
That when I saw it, I cry'd out amaz'd,
Our thundring Canons sure, has tore the Heavens,
And through the Chrystal breach, an Angel's dropt.

Qu.
And I, when first I saw brave Suffolk shining
In Armour Victory, but most of all
In his own Charms! Oh! said I to my self,
I'le wonder now no more the English Conquerors,
They are Angels all, or Angels fight for 'em.

Suff.
I most unworthy to support so bright
A Heaven of Beauty, did retire to gaze,
Whilst all my Soul came crowding to my eyes,
And thrusted till it almost crackt the Windows;
Then like a laden Thief, that stole more Wealth
Than he cou'd spend in all his Life, runs back
And lock't it up secure in every Room.

Qu.
In vain is this rich guilding of that hour,
Which only was the portal of our Loves.
Since we are enter'd, and possess the Palace,
How I then wonder'd, and how since I lov'd,
Let all the Gardens, Groves, and happy Rooms,
That have been aiding to our Pleasures, tell.
So full of Life and Soul our Joys have been,
We have almost scatter'd Life to all things round us.
A thousand times I've thought the wanton Pictures,
Have striven to leap out of their Golden Frames
That held 'em Captive, and come share with us.
A thousand times, methought, I've seen their Mouths
Striving to break the painted shadows Bonds,
That held 'em bound in everlasting silence,
And burst into a Laughter, and a Rapture.

Suff.
I never minded Pictures, when a Substance
Of so much Beatuy lay in my embraces;
Nor Venus's Picture, no nor Venus's self,
Cou'd have extracted a regard from me.

Qu.
How often has our Love in Groves and Gardens
Fill'd every Creature near us with such Spirit,
That they have danc'd to Death as they were stung;
The Birds have chirp'd their little souls away,
The Turtles bill'd till they have no breath;
The Winds have sported wantonly around us,
Till they have swoun'd away into a Calm.

Suff.
Yet all this Love and Beauty which cou'd make
The sapless trunk of a dead Tree to bud,
Can put no warmth into the frozen King.

Qu.
Oh! to my Arms! He comes like depth of Winter,
With Cheeks all moist with Penitential Tears,
And Lips so cold, each kiss gives me an Ague.

Suff.
Alas! How shou'd you expect them otherwise?
He comes from kissing Brazen Images,
And Bones, and Sculs of Saints, that were more cold
When they were living, than you'l be when dead.

Qu.
Well, next to Love, Revenge has sweetest taste,
Let us go take some private stand, and see
Dame Elianor in her ridiculous Pomp
Walking the Streets, in her White Garment barefoot,
Holding a burning Torch to light her shame;
A gaping Crowd, and throng of hooting Boys.
Following her Train, and the Belconies fill'd
With laughing Ladies, whom she onc'd contemn'd.
(A shout.
Heark! they are coming, let's not loose the Pleasure.

Exit.
The SCENE a Street.
Enter Duke Humphry, and his Men in Mourning Cloaks.
Gl.
Oh! What a Change is here in my condition?
Fallen from the highest Pinacle of Glory,
Down to the lowest depth of Shame and Ruine.
From being Ruler of the King and Kingdom,
To be the Scorn and Sport of common Fellows.
Oh! Elianor! I've wrong'd my self and thee
By doting on thee, beyond bounds of Reason.
Thy Errors did appear to me all Excellencies.
But thou poor Nell, hast punishment enough,
I'le not heap more on thee by my Complaints.
Alas! how will thy tender Feet endure
To kiss the rugged face of cutting Flints?
How hardly will thy noble Spirit brook
The abject People gazing on thy Face,
With scornful looks deriding thy Disgrace,
Who lately followed thy proud shining Chariot;
And did not care what dirt the Wheels flung on 'em,
Might they be blest out with a look from thee.
(A shout.
But soft! I think she come's! and I'le prepare
My Tear-stain'd Eyes, to see her Miseries.

Serv.
So, please your Grace, we'll force her from the Sheriff.

Gl.
No, stir not for your lives, she shall submit
To what the King was pleas'd t'inflict upon her.

Enter the Duchess in a White Sheet, a Taper burning in her Hand, Sheriff, and Officers.
El.
Come you, my Lord, to see my open shame?
Can you endure it? If you have no sense
Of my great Sufferings, pity your self,
For you in seeing my shame do Penance with me.
See how the gaping Multitude all point
And nod their Heads, and throw their Eyes on you.
Ah! my Lord! hide you from their odious looks,
And shut up in your Closet, mourn my shame,
And curse mine Enemies, both mine and yours.

Gl.
Be patient gentle Nell, forget this grief.

El.
First teach me to forget my self and you;
For whilst I think I am your Wife, and you
A Prince, and Lord Protector of the Kingdom,
Methinks this shou'd not be my Garb, and Pomp,
I shou'd not thus be lead along the Streets
Wrapt up in shame, with Papers on my Back,
And followed by a Rabble, that rejoyce
To see my Tears, and hear my deep-fetch'd Groans.
The pitiless Flints gash deep my tender Feet,
And when I start, the envious People laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.

Gl.
What if they do, my Love? What matter is it?
They do but shew their low degenerate natures.
Wert thou condemn'd into a Wilderness,
Would'st thou expect to have the Tygers court thee,
The Lions flatter thee, wild Beasts adore thee;
These Crowds are little better, little gentler.

El.
Oh! I cannot endure this heavy shame,
My Soul boyls under it, and my Heart breaks.
I never will behold the Sun again;
Nor face of Humane Creature! Dark obscurity,
Where never eye of Man, nor voice of Fear
Can penetrate, shall cover me for ever,
Out of the sight and memory of the World,
And bury all the World too out of mind.
Nay, if Love will not be too hard for me,
I will not let thee come into my mind.
For, oh! what deadly sorrow will it breed,
To think I am the Duke of Glocester's Wife.
And he a Prince and Governour of England:
Yet so he Rul'd, and such a Prince he was,
As he stood by, whilst his forlorn Duchess
Was made a Wonder and a Pointing-stock
To every idle rascal follower.

Gl.
What wou'dst thou have me do?

El.
Nay, nothing, nothing,
Be mild, and tame, and blush not at my shame.
Be stirr'd at nothing, 'till the Ax of Death
Fall on thy self, as shortly sure it will.
For Suffolk, he that can do all in all
With that vile Woman, who abhors us all;
And York, and impious Beauford, that false Priest,
Have all laid Snares, which thou shalt never scape.
But fear not thou, until thy Foot be snar'd,
Nor ever seek prevention of thy Enemies,
Till thou art fallen lower than I am now.

Gl.
Ah! Nell, forbear, for now thou aim'st awry,
I must offend before I can be hurt;
And had I twenty times so many Enemies,
And each of e'm had twenty times their power,
Not all of e'm cou'd work me any damage
So long as I am Loyal, True, and Faultless:
But thou wou'd'st have me rescue thee from shame;
I cannot do it, from these Officers
If I shou'd force thee, I can ne're redeem thee
From th'everlasting Scandal that will follow thee.
Thy greatest help is quiet, then sweet Nell;
I pray thee sort thy heart with patience.

Enter a Herald.
Her.
I summon your Grace to his Majesties Parliament
Holden at Bury, the first of this next Month.

Gl.
And my consent ne're ask'd herein before?
This is close dealing. Well, I will be there.

(Ex. Herald.
El.
Lo you my Lord! What think you now?

Gl.
I think
My Love as thou dost, Mischief is design'd me.
But if my Innocence will not protect me,
Guilt shall not do it; I will keep my Loyalty
Whilst I can keep my Life.

El.
Oh! that I fear
Will not be long.

Gl.
Well, Heaven's will be done.
Love, I must take my leave; and Master Sheriff,
Let not her Penance exceed the King's Commission.

Sher.
An't please your Grace, here my Commission stay's;
And Sir John Stanly is appointed now,
To take her with him to the Isle of Man.

Stanly.
So am I given in charge, an't please your Grace.

Gl.
Pray use her well, the World may smile again,
And I may live to return any Kindness
You do to her; and so dear Love farewel.

El.
Oh! stay! and do not make our farewel short,
For this is the last time I e're shall see thee.

Gl.
Do not say so, my Love.

El.
I know it is.
Thy Enemies are powerful, and many,
And thy own Innocence will betray thee to e'm.

Gl.
I hope not so, I doubt not but to scape
From all their Snares; and if I do, I'le come
And find thee out in thy poor barren Island,
There we'l be all the World to one another.
In that most desolate mournful abode
We will be happier, then e're we were
In the high stately building of our Greatness,
Whose walls were Vanity, foundations Rottenness.
Oh! I can speak no more to thee for Tears.
Once more farewel.

—Exit.
El.
All comfort go with thee.
For none abides with me, my Joy is death,
Death, at whose name I oft have been afraid,
Because I wish't this World's eternity;
But now I wish the World were at an end.
Stanly, I prethy go, and take me hence,
I care not whether, for I beg no favour.
I care not what becomes of wretched me,
My Honour is for ever sunk in shame,
And my Lord lost among his Enemies;
For I am sure they'l murder him amongst e'm,
And I shall never never see him more.
Prethee conveigh me where thou art commanded.

Stan.
Why, Madam, that is to the Isle of Man,
There to be us'd according to your State.

El.
According to my State? How's that? Reproachfully?
For now my State is vilest Infamy.

Stan.
Like to a Duchess, and Duke Humphry's Lady,
According to that state you shall be us'd.

El.
Sheriff, farewel, I wish no harm to thee,
Though thou hast been conductor of my shame.

Sher.
It is my Office, Madam pardon me.

El.
I, I, farewel, thy Office is discharg'd.
Come, Stanly, let us go.

Stan.
Your Penance done;
Now, Madam, if you please, throw off your sheet:

El.
My shame will not be thrown off with my sheet.
No, it will hang upon my richest Robes.
All Sin will meet dishonour, first or last,
I hope my Crown's to come, and my shame past.

Exit.