 | Henry the Sixth, The First part |  |
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.
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.
35
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
36
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.
37
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:
38
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.
| Henry the Sixth, The First part | |