Glo.
Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud;
And after summer, evermore succeeds

The barren winter with his nipping cold;
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
Sirs, what's a clock?

Serv.
Ten, my lord.

Glo.
Ten is the hour that was appointed me,
To watch the coming of my punish'd Dutchess:
† ^noteUnneath may she endure the flinty streets,
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind a-brook
The abject people gazing on thy face,
With envious looks still laughing at thy shame,
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels,
When thou didst ride in triumph thro' the streets.
But soft, I think she comes, and I'll prepare
My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries. Enter the Dutchess in a white Sheet, and a Taper burning in her hand, with a Sheriff and Officers.

Serv.
So please your grace, we'll take her from the Sheriff.

Glo.
No, stir not for your lives, let her pass by.

Elean.
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 Glo'ster, hide thee from their hateful looks,
And in thy closet pent up, rue my shame,
And ban our enemies, both mine and thine.

Glo.
Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this grief.

Elean.
Ah Glo'ster, teach me to forget my self:
For whilst I think I am thy marry'd 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-fetch'd groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet,
And when I start the ^{a note}cruel people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.
Ah Humphry, can I bear this shameful yoak?
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 Humphry's wife,
And he a Prince and ruler of the land:
Yet so he rul'd, and such a Prince he was,
That he stood by, whilst I his forlorn Dutchess
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
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 Beauford that false priest,
Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings;
And fly thou how thou can'st they'll tangle thee:
But fear thou not until thy foot be snar'd,
Nor ever seek prevention of thy foes.

Glo.
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 † ^notescathe,
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.

Her.

I summon your grace to his Majesty's parliament holden at Bury, the first of this next month.

Glo.
And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before?
This is close dealing. Well, I will be there;
My Nell, I take my leave: and master Sheriff,
Let not her penance exceed the King's commission.

Sher.
And'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.

Glo.
Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here?

Stan.
So am I giv'n in charge, may't please your grace.

Glo.
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, farewel:

Elean.
What gone, my lord, and bid me not farewel?

Glo.
Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. [Exit Gloucester.

Elean.
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 afraid,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity.
Stanley, I pr'ythee go and take me hence,
I care not whither, for I beg no favour;
Only convey me where thou art commanded.

Stan.
Why madam, that is to the Isle of Man,

There to be us'd according to your state.

Elean.
That's bad enough, for I am but reproach:
And shall I then be us'd reproachfully?

Stan.
No; like a Dutchess, and Duke Humphry's lady,
According to that state you shall be us'd.

Elean.
Sheriff fare well, and better than I fare,
Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.

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

Elean.
Ay, ay, farewel, thy office is discharg'd.
Come Stanley, shall we go?

Stan.
Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet,
And go we to attire you for our journey.

Elean.
My shame will not be shifted with my sheet:
No, it will hang upon my richest robes,
And shew itself, attire me how I can.
Go, lead the way, I long to see my prison. [Exeunt.

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