 | Henry the Sixth, The First part |  |
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.
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.
29
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,
30
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.
31
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—
32
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,
33
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.
34
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.
| Henry the Sixth, The First part | |