The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

in open field,

In winter’s cold and summer’s parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance?

And did my brother Bedford toil his wits To keep by policy what Henry got?

Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, Receiv’d deep scars in France and Normandy?

Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself, With all the learned Council of the realm, Studied so long, sat in the Council House Early and late, debating to and fro

How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe?

And had his Highness in his infancy

Crowned in Paris, in despite of foes?

And shall these labours and these honours die?

Shall Henry’s conquest, Bedford’s vigilance, Your deeds of war, and all our counsel die?

O peers of England, shameful is this league!

Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame, Blotting your names from books of memory, Razing the characters of your renown, Defacing monuments of conquer’d France, Undoing all, as all had never been!

CARDINAL. Nephew, what means this passionate discourse, This peroration with such circumstance?

For France, ‘tis ours; and we will keep it still.

GLOUCESTER. Ay, uncle, we will keep it if we can; But now it is impossible we should.

Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast, Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.

SALISBURY. Now, by the death of Him that died for all, These counties were the keys of Normandy!

But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?

WARWICK. For grief that they are past recovery; For were there hope to conquer them again My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears.

Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both; Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer; And are the cities that I got with wounds Deliver’d up again with peaceful words?

Mort Dieu!

YORK. For Suffolk’s duke, may he be suffocate, That dims the honour of this warlike isle!

France should have torn and rent my very heart Before I would have yielded to this league.

I never read but England’s kings have had Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives; And our King Henry gives away his own To match with her that brings no vantages.

GLOUCESTER. A proper jest, and never heard before, That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth For costs and charges in transporting her!

She should have stay’d in France, and starv’d in France, Before-CARDINAL. My Lord of Gloucester, now ye grow too hot: It was the pleasure of my lord the King.

GLOUCESTER. My Lord of Winchester, I know your mind; ‘Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, But ‘tis my presence that doth trouble ye.

Rancour will out: proud prelate, in thy face I see thy fury; if I longer stay

We shall begin our ancient bickerings.

Lordings, farewell; and say, when I am gone, I prophesied France will be lost ere long. Exit CARDINAL. So, there goes our Protector in a rage.

‘Tis known to you he is mine enemy;

Nay, more, an enemy unto you all,

And no great friend, I fear me, to the King.

Consider, lords, he is the next of blood And heir apparent to the English crown.

Had Henry got an empire by his marriage And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, There’s reason he should be displeas’d at it.

Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect.

What though the common people favour him, Calling him ‘Humphrey, the good Duke of Gloucester,’

Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice ‘Jesu maintain your royal excellence!’

With ‘God preserve the good Duke Humphrey!’

I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, He will be found a dangerous Protector.

BUCKINGHAM. Why should he then protect our sovereign, He being of age to govern of himself?

Cousin of Somerset, join you with me, And all together, with the Duke of Suffolk, We’ll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat.

CARDINAL. This weighty business will not brook delay; I’ll to the Duke of Suffolk presently. Exit SOMERSET. Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey’s pride And greatness of his place be grief to us, Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal; His insolence is more intolerable

Than all the princes in the land beside; If Gloucester be displac’d, he’ll be Protector.

BUCKINGHAM. Or thou or I, Somerset, will be Protector, Despite Duke Humphrey or the Cardinal.

Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and SOMERSET

SALISBURY. Pride went before, ambition follows him.

While these do labour for their own preferment, Behoves it us to labour for the realm.

I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloucester Did bear him like a noble gentleman.

Oft have I seen the haughty Cardinal—

More like a soldier than a man o’ th’ church, As stout and proud as he were lord of all-Swear like a ruffian and demean himself Unlike the ruler of a commonweal.

Warwick my son, the comfort of my age, Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping, Hath won the greatest favour of the commons, Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey.

And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, In bringing them to civil discipline, Thy late exploits done in the heart of France When thou wert Regent for our sovereign, Have made thee fear’d and honour’d of the people: Join we together for the public good, In what we can, to bridle and suppress The pride of Suffolk and the Cardinal, With Somerset’s and Buckingham’s ambition; And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey’s deeds While they do tend the profit of the land.

WARWICK. So God help Warwick, as he loves the land And common profit of his country!

YORK. And so says York- [Aside] for he hath greatest cause.

SALISBURY. Then let’s make haste away and look unto the main.

WARWICK. Unto the main! O father, Maine is lost-That Maine which by main force Warwick did win, And would have kept so long as breath did last.

Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant Maine, Which I will win from France, or else be slain.

Exeunt WARWICK and SALISBURY

YORK. Anjou and Maine are given to the French; Paris is lost; the state of Normandy

Stands on a tickle point now they are gone.

Suffolk concluded on the articles;

The peers agreed; and Henry was well pleas’d To changes two dukedoms for a duke’s fair daughter.

I cannot blame them all: what is’t to them?

‘Tis thine they give away, and not their own.

Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, And purchase friends, and give to courtezans, Still revelling like lords till all be gone; While as the silly owner of the goods Weeps over them and wrings his hapless hands And shakes his head and trembling stands aloof, While all is shar’d and all is borne away, Ready to starve and dare not touch his own.

So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue, While his own lands are bargain’d for and sold.

Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland, Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood As did the fatal brand Althaea burnt

Unto the prince’s heart of Calydon.

Anjou and Maine both given unto the French!

Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, Even as I have of fertile England’s soil.

A day will come when York shall claim his own; And therefore I will take the Nevils’ parts, And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey, And when I spy advantage, claim the crown, For that’s the golden mark I seek to hit.

Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist, Nor wear the diadem upon his head,

Whose church-like humours fits not for a crown.

Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve; Watch thou and wake, when others be asleep, To pry into the secrets of the state; Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love With his new bride and England’s dear-bought queen, And Humphrey with the peers be fall’n at jars; Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum’d, And in my standard bear the arms of York, To grapple with the house of Lancaster; And force perforce I’ll make him yield the crown, Whose bookish rule hath pull’d fair England down. Exit

SCENE II.

The DUKE OF GLOUCESTER’S house

 

Enter DUKE and his wife ELEANOR

 

DUCHESS. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen’d corn Hanging the head at Ceres’ plenteous load?

Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, As frowning at the favours of the world?

Why are thine eyes fix’d to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight?

What see’st thou there? King Henry’s diadem, Enchas’d with all the honours of the world?

If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face Until thy head be circled with the same.

Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.

What, is’t too short? I’ll lengthen it with mine; And having both together heav’d it up, We’ll both together lift our heads to heaven, And never more abase our sight so low As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.

GLOUCESTER. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord, Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts!

And may that thought, when I imagine ill Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, Be my last breathing in this mortal world!

My troublous dreams this night doth make me sad.

DUCHESS. What dream’d my lord? Tell me, and I’ll requite it With sweet rehearsal of my morning’s dream.

GLOUCESTER. Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court, Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot, But, as I think, it was by th’ Cardinal; And on the pieces of the broken wand

Were plac’d the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset And William de la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk.

This was my dream; what it doth bode God knows.

DUCHESS. Tut, this was nothing but an argument That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester’s grove Shall lose his head for his presumption.

But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet Duke: Methought I sat in seat of majesty

In the cathedral church of Westminster, And in that chair where kings and queens were crown’d; Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneel’d to me, And on my head did set the diadem.

GLOUCESTER. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright.

Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur’d Eleanor!

Art thou not second woman in the realm, And the Protector’s wife, belov’d of him?

Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command Above the reach or compass of thy thought?

And wilt thou still be hammering treachery To tumble down thy husband and thyself From top of honour to disgrace’s feet?

Away from me, and let me hear no more!

DUCHESS. What, what, my lord! Are you so choleric With Eleanor for telling but her dream?

Next time I’ll keep my dreams unto myself And not be check’d.

GLOUCESTER. Nay, be not angry; I am pleas’d again.

 

Enter a MESSENGER

 

MESSENGER. My Lord Protector, ‘tis his Highness’ pleasure You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans, Where as the King and Queen do mean to hawk.

GLOUCESTER. I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us?

DUCHESS. Yes, my good lord, I’ll follow presently.

Exeunt GLOUCESTER and MESSENGER

Follow I must; I cannot go before,

While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind.

Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks And smooth my way upon their headless necks; And, being a woman, I will not be slack To play my part in Fortune’s pageant.

Where are you there, Sir John? Nay, fear not, man, We are alone; here’s none but thee and I.

 

Enter HUME

 

HUME. Jesus