SCENE IV. A street. The Second part of King Henry the Sixth  Shakespeare homepage  |  Henry VI, part 2  | Act 2, Scene 4 

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 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? 

 Servants  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 in a white sheet, and a taper  burning in her hand; with STANLEY, the Sheriff, and Officers  Servant  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 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? 

 Trow'st 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. 

 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 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 Servingmen  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 afear'd, 

 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 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. 

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

 DUCHESS  Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharged. 

 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. 



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