Original Text |
Translated Text |
| Source: Folger Shakespeare Library |
|
Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester 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? 5 SERVANT Ten, my lord. GLOUCESTER
Ten is the hour that was appointed me
To watch the coming of my punished duchess.
Uneath may she endure the flinty streets,
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. 10
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. 15
But, soft! I think she comes, and I’ll prepare
My tearstained eyes to see her miseries. Enter the Duchess of Gloucester, barefoot, and in a
white sheet, with papers pinned to her back and a
taper burning in her hand, with Sir John Stanley,
the Sheriff, and Officers. | Out on the streets, Gloucester enters in mourning clothes. His wife
enters, barefoot, with a white sheet on her back that proclaims her
crimes to the world. So that's what Henry meant when he ordered her to
perform three days of penance. |
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? 20
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, 25
And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine. | Eleanor tells her husband that she's sick of all eyes being on her.
People stare at her in the streets, and she's publicly shamed. |
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, 30
Methinks I should not thus be led along,
Mailed 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, 35
And when I start, the envious people laugh
And bid me be advisèd 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 enjoys the sun? 40
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 ruled and such a prince he was 45
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 ax of death 50
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; 55
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 tells her to be patient but also she says she shouldn't be punished, since she's the Protector's wife. Eleanor says that people are out to get rid of him, too. |
GLOUCESTER
Ah, Nell, forbear. Thou aimest all awry.
I must offend before I be attainted; 60
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? 65
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. 70 | Gloucester doesn't believe his wife. He's loyal and crimeless—who would want to punish him? Whatever, Gloucester; something tells us Eleanor's not too far off base on this one. |
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. Herald exits. My Nell, I take my leave.—And, master sheriff, 75
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? 80 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 DUCHESS
What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell? GLOUCESTER
Witness my tears. I cannot stay to speak. Gloucester exits with his Men. | Just then, a herald enters to take Gloucester to parliament at Holden at Bury. He says goodbye to Eleanor through his tears. |
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, 90
Because I wished this world’s eternity.—
Stanley, I prithee, go, and take me hence.
I care not whither, for I beg no favor;
Only convey me where thou art commanded. STANLEY
Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man, 95
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. 100 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. The Sheriff and Officers exit. Come, Stanley, shall we go? 105 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. 110
Go, lead the way. I long to see my prison. They exit. | Since her penance is done, Eleanor is instructed to throw off her sheet
and follow Stanley to her banishment. She says that her shame will stick
around long after the sheet's gone. |