Kitabı oku: «The Second Part of King Henry the Sixth», sayfa 3

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?
 
 
  SERVING-MAN. 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 SERVING-MAN. 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
 

ACT III.

SCENE I. The Abbey at Bury St. Edmunds

Sound a sennet. Enter the KING, the QUEEN, CARDINAL, SUFFOLK, 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 will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey.
 
 
  KING HENRY. My lords, at once: the care you have of us,
    To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot,
    Is worthy praise; but shall I speak my conscience?
    Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent
    From meaning treason to our royal person
    As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove:
    The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given
    To dream on evil or to work my downfall.
 
 
  QUEEN. Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance?
    Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrow'd,
    For he's disposed as the hateful raven.
    Is he a lamb? His skin is surely lent him,
    For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf.
    Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit?
    Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
    Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.
 

Enter SOMERSET

 
  SOMERSET. All health unto my gracious sovereign!
 
 
  KING HENRY. Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France?
 
 
  SOMERSET. That all your interest in those territories
    Is utterly bereft you; all is lost.
 
 
  KING HENRY. Cold news, Lord Somerset; but God's will be done!
 
 
  YORK. [Aside] Cold news for me; for I had hope of France
    As firmly as I hope for fertile England.
    Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud,
    And caterpillars eat my leaves away;
    But I will remedy this gear ere long,
    Or sell my title for a glorious grave.
 

Enter GLOUCESTER

 
  GLOUCESTER. All happiness unto my lord the King!
    Pardon, my liege, that I have stay'd so long.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art come too soon,
    Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art.
    I do arrest thee of high treason here.
 
 
  GLOUCESTER. Well, Suffolk, thou shalt not see me blush
    Nor change my countenance for this arrest:
    A heart unspotted is not easily daunted.
    The purest spring is not so free from mud
    As I am clear from treason to my sovereign.
    Who can accuse me? Wherein am I guilty?
 
 
  YORK. 'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France
    And, being Protector, stay'd the soldiers' pay;
    By means whereof his Highness hath lost France.
 
 
  GLOUCESTER. Is it but thought so? What are they that think it?
    I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay
    Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
    So help me God, as I have watch'd the night-
    Ay, night by night- in studying good for England!
    That doit that e'er I wrested from the King,
    Or any groat I hoarded to my use,
    Be brought against me at my trial-day!
    No; many a pound of mine own proper store,
    Because I would not tax the needy commons,
    Have I dispursed to the garrisons,
    And never ask'd for restitution.
 
 
  CARDINAL. It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.
 
 
  GLOUCESTER. I say no more than truth, so help me God!
 
 
  YORK. In your protectorship you did devise
    Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of,
    That England was defam'd by tyranny.
 
 
  GLOUCESTER. Why, 'tis well known that whiles I was Protector
    Pity was all the fault that was in me;
    For I should melt at an offender's tears,
    And lowly words were ransom for their fault.
    Unless it were a bloody murderer,
    Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers,
    I never gave them condign punishment.
    Murder indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd
    Above the felon or what trespass else.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answer'd;
    But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,
    Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.
    I do arrest you in His Highness' name,
    And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal
    To keep until your further time of trial.
 
 
  KING HENRY. My Lord of Gloucester, 'tis my special hope
    That you will clear yourself from all suspense.
    My conscience tells me you are innocent.
 
 
  GLOUCESTER. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous!
    Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition,
    And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand;
    Foul subornation is predominant,
    And equity exil'd your Highness' land.
    I know their complot is to have my life;
    And if my death might make this island happy
    And prove the period of their tyranny,
    I would expend it with all willingness.
    But mine is made the prologue to their play;
    For thousands more that yet suspect no peril
    Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.
    Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
    And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate;
    Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue
    The envious load that lies upon his heart;
    And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
    Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back,
    By false accuse doth level at my life.
    And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,
    Causeless have laid disgraces on my head,
    And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up
    My liefest liege to be mine enemy;
    Ay, all of you have laid your heads together-
    Myself had notice of your conventicles-
    And all to make away my guiltless life.
    I shall not want false witness to condemn me
    Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt.
    The ancient proverb will be well effected:
    'A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.'
 
 
  CARDINAL. My liege, his railing is intolerable.
    If those that care to keep your royal person
    From treason's secret knife and traitor's rage
    Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
    And the offender granted scope of speech,
    'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here
    With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd,
    As if she had suborned some to swear
    False allegations to o'erthrow his state?
 
 
  QUEEN. But I can give the loser leave to chide.
 
 
  GLOUCESTER. Far truer spoke than meant: I lose indeed.
    Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false!
    And well such losers may have leave to speak.
 
 
  BUCKINGHAM. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day.
    Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner.
 
 
  CARDINAL. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure.
 
 
  GLOUCESTER. Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch
    Before his legs be firm to bear his body!
    Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side,
    And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first.
    Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were!
    For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. Exit, guarded
 
 
  KING HENRY. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best
    Do or undo, as if ourself were here.
 
 
  QUEEN. What, will your Highness leave the Parliament?
 
 
  KING HENRY. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief,
    Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes;
    My body round engirt with misery-
    For what's more miserable than discontent?
    Ah, uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see
    The map of honour, truth, and loyalty!
    And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come
    That e'er I prov'd thee false or fear'd thy faith.
    What louring star now envies thy estate
    That these great lords, and Margaret our Queen,
    Do seek subversion of thy harmless life?
    Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong;
    And as the butcher takes away the calf,
    And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays,
    Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house,
    Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence;
    And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
    Looking the way her harmless young one went,
    And can do nought but wail her darling's loss,
    Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case
    With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimm'd eyes
    Look after him, and cannot do him good,
    So mighty are his vowed enemies.
    His fortunes I will weep, and 'twixt each groan
    Say 'Who's a traitor? Gloucester he is none.' Exit
 
 
  QUEEN. Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams:
    Henry my lord is cold in great affairs,
    Too full of foolish pity; and Gloucester's show
    Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile
    With sorrow snares relenting passengers;
    Or as the snake, roll'd in a flow'ring bank,
    With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child
    That for the beauty thinks it excellent.
    Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I-
    And yet herein I judge mine own wit good-
    This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world
    To rid us from the fear we have of him.
 
 
  CARDINAL. That he should die is worthy policy;
    But yet we want a colour for his death.
    'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. But, in my mind, that were no policy:
    The King will labour still to save his life;
    The commons haply rise to save his life;
    And yet we have but trivial argument,
    More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death.
 
 
  YORK. So that, by this, you would not have him die.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I!
 
 
  YORK. 'Tis York that hath more reason for his death.
    But, my Lord Cardinal, and you, my Lord of Suffolk,
    Say as you think, and speak it from your souls:
    Were't not all one an empty eagle were set
    To guard the chicken from a hungry kite
    As place Duke Humphrey for the King's Protector?
 
 
  QUEEN. So the poor chicken should be sure of death.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. Madam, 'tis true; and were't not madness then
    To make the fox surveyor of the fold?
    Who being accus'd a crafty murderer,
    His guilt should be but idly posted over,
    Because his purpose is not executed.
    No; let him die, in that he is a fox,
    By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock,
    Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood,
    As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege.
    And do not stand on quillets how to slay him;
    Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety,
    Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how,
    So he be dead; for that is good deceit
    Which mates him first that first intends deceit.
 
 
  QUEEN. Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. Not resolute, except so much were done,
    For things are often spoke and seldom meant;
    But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,
    Seeing the deed is meritorious,
    And to preserve my sovereign from his foe,
    Say but the word, and I will be his priest.
 
 
  CARDINAL. But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk,
    Ere you can take due orders for a priest;
    Say you consent and censure well the deed,
    And I'll provide his executioner-
    I tender so the safety of my liege.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. Here is my hand the deed is worthy doing.
 
 
  QUEEN. And so say I.
 
 
  YORK. And I. And now we three have spoke it,
    It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.
 

Enter a POST

 
  POST. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain
    To signify that rebels there are up
    And put the Englishmen unto the sword.
    Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime,
    Before the wound do grow uncurable;
    For, being green, there is great hope of help.
 
 
  CARDINAL. A breach that craves a quick expedient stop!
    What counsel give you in this weighty cause?
 
 
  YORK. That Somerset be sent as Regent thither;
    'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd,
    Witness the fortune he hath had in France.
 
 
  SOMERSET. If York, with all his far-fet policy,
    Had been the Regent there instead of me,
    He never would have stay'd in France so long.
 
 
  YORK. No, not to lose it all as thou hast done.
    I rather would have lost my life betimes
    Than bring a burden of dishonour home
    By staying there so long till all were lost.
    Show me one scar character'd on thy skin:
    Men's flesh preserv'd so whole do seldom win.
 
 
  QUEEN. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging fire,
    If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with;
    No more, good York; sweet Somerset, be still.
    Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been Regent there,
    Might happily have prov'd far worse than his.
 
 
  YORK. What, worse than nought? Nay, then a shame take all!
 
 
  SOMERSET. And in the number, thee that wishest shame!
 
 
  CARDINAL. My Lord of York, try what your fortune is.
    Th' uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms
    And temper clay with blood of Englishmen;
    To Ireland will you lead a band of men,
    Collected choicely, from each county some,
    And try your hap against the Irishmen?
 
 
  YORK. I will, my lord, so please his Majesty.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. Why, our authority is his consent,
    And what we do establish he confirms;
    Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand.
 
 
  YORK. I am content; provide me soldiers, lords,
    Whiles I take order for mine own affairs.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. A charge, Lord York, that I will see perform'd.
    But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey.
 
 
  CARDINAL. No more of him; for I will deal with him
    That henceforth he shall trouble us no more.
    And so break off; the day is almost spent.
    Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event.
 
 
  YORK. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days
    At Bristol I expect my soldiers;
    For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.
 
 
  SUFFOLK. I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York.
 

Exeunt all but YORK

 
  YORK. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts
    And change misdoubt to resolution;
    Be that thou hop'st to be; or what thou art
    Resign to death- it is not worth th' enjoying.
    Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man
    And find no harbour in a royal heart.
    Faster than spring-time show'rs comes thought on thought,
    And not a thought but thinks on dignity.
    My brain, more busy than the labouring spider,
    Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
    Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done
    To send me packing with an host of men.
    I fear me you but warm the starved snake,
    Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts.
    'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me;
    I take it kindly. Yet be well assur'd
    You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.
    Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
    I will stir up in England some black storm
    Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell;
    And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage
    Until the golden circuit on my head,
    Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,
    Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.
    And for a minister of my intent
    I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman,
    John Cade of Ashford,
    To make commotion, as full well he can,
    Under the tide of John Mortimer.
    In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade
    Oppose himself against a troop of kerns,
    And fought so long tiff that his thighs with darts
    Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine;
    And in the end being rescu'd, I have seen
    Him caper upright like a wild Morisco,
    Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells.
    Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern,
    Hath he conversed with the enemy,
    And undiscover'd come to me again
    And given me notice of their villainies.
    This devil here shall be my substitute;
    For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,
    In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble.
    By this I shall perceive the commons' mind,
    How they affect the house and claim of York.
    Say he be taken, rack'd, and tortured;
    I know no pain they can inflict upon him
    Will make him say I mov'd him to those arms.
    Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will,
    Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength,
    And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd;
    For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,
    And Henry put apart, the next for me. Exit