Or count them happy that enjoys the sun?

No, dark shall be my light, and night my day;

To think upon my pomp shall be my hell.

Sometime I’ll say I am Duke Humphrey’s wife,

And he a prince and ruler of the land;

Yet so he ruled, 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 limed bushes to betray thy wings,

And fly thou how thou canst, they’ll tangle thee.

But fear not thou until thy foot be snared,

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 wiped 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 asked 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.

⌈FIRST⌉ 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. 85

⌈Gloucester begins to leave⌉

DUCHESS

What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell?

GLOUCESTER

Witness my tears—I cannot stay to speak.

Exeunt Gloucester and his men

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 wished 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 used according to your state.

DUCHESS

That’s bad enough, for I am but reproach;

And shall I then be used reproachfully?

STANLEY

Like to a duchess and Duke Humphrey’s lady,

According to that state you shall be used.

DUCHESS

Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare,

Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.

⌈FIRST⌉ SHERIFF

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

DUCHESS

Ay, ay, farewell—thy office is discharged.

⌈Exeunt Sheriffs ⌉

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

3.1 Sound a sennet. Enter to the parliament: enter two heralds before, then the Dukes of Buckingham and Suffolk, and then the Duke of York and Cardinal Beaufort, and then King Henry and Queen Margaret, and then the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, ⌈With attendants ⌉

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 MARGARET

Can you not see, or will ye not observe,

The strangeness of his altered 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 admired him for submission.

But meet him now, and be it in the morn

When everyone 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.

Meseemeth then it is no policy,

Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears