give me leave to go;
Sorrow would solace and mine age would ease.
| King |
Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester: ere thou go,
Give up thy staff: Henry will to himself
Protector be; and God shall be my hope,
My stay, my guide and lantern to my feet:
And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved
Than when thou wert protector to thy king.
|
| Queen |
I see no reason why a king of years
Should be to be protected like a child.
God and King Henry govern England’s realm.
Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm.
|
| Gloucester |
My staff? here, noble Henry, is my staff:
As willingly do I the same resign
As e’er thy father Henry made it mine;
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it
As others would ambitiously receive it.
Farewell, good king: when I am dead and gone,
May honourable peace attend thy throne! Exit.
|
| Queen |
Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret queen;
And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself,
That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once;
His lady banish’d, and a limb lopp’d off.
This staff of honour raught, there let it stand
Where it best fits to be, in Henry’s hand.
|
| Suffolk |
Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays;
Thus Eleanor’s pride dies in her youngest days.
|
| York |
Lords, let him go. Please it your majesty,
This is the day appointed for the combat;
And ready are the appellant and defendant,
The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,
So please your highness to behold the fight.
|
| Queen |
Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore
Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried.
|
| King |
O’ God’s name, see the lists and all things fit:
Here let them end it; and God defend the right!
|
| York |
I never saw a fellow worse bested,
Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,
The servant of this armourer, my lords.
|
|
Enter at one door, Horner, the Armourer, and his Neighbours, drinking to him so much that he is drunk; and he enters with a drum before him and his staff with a sand-bag fastened to it; and at the other door Peter, his man, with a drum and sand-bag, 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 me 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 downright 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 enemy in this presence? O Peter, thou hast prevailed in right! |
| King |
Go, take hence that traitor from our sight;
For 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
A street.
|
Enter Gloucester and his Servingmen, 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 followed with a rabble that rejoice
To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans.
The ruthless
|
