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

is drunk; and he enters with a drum before him and his staff with a sandbag fastened to it; and at the other door PETER, his man, with a drum and sandbag, and PRENTICES drinking to him FIRST NEIGHBOUR. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack; and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough.

SECOND NEIGHBOUR. And here, neighbour, here’s a cup of charneco.

THIRD NEIGHBOUR. And here’s a pot of good double beer, neighbour; drink, and fear not your man.

HORNER. Let it come, i’ faith, and I’ll pledge you all; and a fig for Peter!

FIRST PRENTICE. Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be not afraid.

SECOND PRENTICE. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master: fight for credit of the prentices.

PETER. I thank you all. Drink, and pray for me, I pray you; for I think I have taken my last draught in this world. Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer; and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. O Lord bless me, I pray God! for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much fence already.

SALISBURY. Come, leave your drinking and fall to blows.

Sirrah, what’s thy name?

PETER. Peter, forsooth.

SALISBURY. Peter? What more?

PETER. Thump.

SALISBURY. Thump? Then see thou thump thy master well.

HORNER. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man’s instigation, to prove him a knave and myself an honest man; and touching the Duke of York, I will take my death I never meant him any ill, nor the King, nor the Queen; and therefore, Peter, have at thee with a down right blow!

YORK. Dispatch-this knave’s tongue begins to double.

Sound, trumpets, alarum to the combatants!

[Alarum. They fight and PETER strikes him down]

HORNER. Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason.

[Dies]

YORK. Take away his weapon. Fellow, thank God, and the good wine in thy master’s way.

PETER. O God, have I overcome mine enemies in this presence? O

Peter, thou hast prevail’d in right!

KING HENRY. Go, take hence that traitor from our sight, For by his death we do perceive his guilt; And God in justice hath reveal’d to us The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, Which he had thought to have murder’d wrongfully.

Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.

Sound a flourish. Exeunt

SCENE IV.

London. A street

 

Enter DUKE HUMPHREY and his men, in mourning cloaks GLOUCESTER. 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?

SERVINGMAN. Ten, my lord.

GLOUCESTER. 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, 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 in a white sheet, and a taper burning in her hand, with SIR JOHN

STANLEY, the SHERIFF, and OFFICERS

 

SERVINGMAN. So please your Grace, we’ll take her from the sheriff.

GLOUCESTER. No, stir not for your lives; let her pass by.

DUCHESS. 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!

GLOUCESTER. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.

DUCHESS. Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself!

For whilst I think I am thy married 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?

Trowest 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.

Sometimes 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.

GLOUCESTER. 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 scathe 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

 

HERALD. I summon your Grace to his Majesty’s Parliament, Holden at Bury the first of this next month.

GLOUCESTER. 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.

SHERIFF. 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.

GLOUCESTER. Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here?

STANLEY. So am I given in charge, may’t please your Grace.

GLOUCESTER. 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.

DUCHESS. What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell!

GLOUCESTER. Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak.

Exeunt GLOUCESTER and servants DUCHESS. 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 afeard, 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.

STANLEY. Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man, There to be us’d according to your state.

DUCHESS. That’s bad enough, for I am but reproach-And shall I then be us’d reproachfully?

STANLEY. Like to a duchess and Duke Humphrey’s lady; According to that state you shall be us’d.

DUCHESS. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare, Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.

SHERIFF. It is my office; and, madam, pardon me.

DUCHESS. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharg’d.

Come, Stanley, shall we go?

STANLEY. Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet, And go we to attire you for our journey.

DUCHESS. 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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ACT III. SCENE I.

The Abbey at Bury St. Edmunds

 

Sound a sennet. Enter the KING, the QUEEN, CARDINAL, SUFFOLK, YORK, BUCKINGHAM, SALISBURY, and WARWICK, to the Parliament KING HENRY. I muse my Lord of Gloucester is not come.

‘Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, Whate’er occasion keeps him from us now.

QUEEN. Can you not see, or will ye not observe The strangeness of his alter’d countenance?

With what a majesty he bears himself; How insolent of late he is become,

How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself?

We know the time since he was mild and affable, And if we did but glance a far-off look Immediately he was upon his knee,

That all the court admir’d him for submission.

But meet him now and be it in the morn, When every one will give the time of day, He knits his brow and shows an angry eye And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee, Disdaining duty that to us belongs.

Small curs are not regarded when they grin, But great men tremble when the lion roars, And Humphrey is no little man in England.

First note that he is near you in descent, And should you fall he is the next will mount; Me seemeth, then, it is no policy-Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears, And his advantage following your decease-That he should come about your royal person Or be admitted to your Highness’ Council.

By flattery hath he won the commons’ hearts; And when he please to make commotion, ‘Tis to be fear’d they all will follow him.

Now ‘tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now, and they’ll o’ergrow the garden And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.

The reverent care I bear unto my lord Made me collect these dangers in the Duke.

If it be fond, can it a woman’s fear; Which fear if better reasons can supplant, I will subscribe, and say I wrong’d the Duke.

My Lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, Reprove my allegation if you can,

Or else conclude my words effectual.

SUFFOLK. Well hath your Highness seen into this duke; And had I first been put to speak my mind, I think I should have told your Grace’s tale.

The Duchess, by his subornation,

Upon my life, began her devilish practices; Or if he were not privy to those faults, Yet by reputing of his high descent-As next the King he was successive heir-And such high vaunts of his nobility, Did instigate the bedlam brainsick Duchess By wicked means to frame our sovereign’s fall.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep, And in his simple show he harbours treason.

The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.

No, no, my sovereign, Gloucester is a man Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.

CARDINAL. Did he not, contrary to form of law, Devise strange deaths for small offences done?

YORK. And did he not, in his protectorship, Levy great sums of money through the realm For soldiers’ pay in France, and never sent it?

By means whereof the towns each day revolted.

BUCKINGHAM. Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown Which time