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A LADY-IN-WAITING TO THE QUEEN, THE ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, THE QUEEN
LADY [Alone.] You Who wield
retribution of crime in Your hands, and in Your kindness aids us in our
weary travails, take pity
on the fallen House of York. What end is there of evils? Alas, alas,
how long the Queen burdens her existence with dire laments! What
fierce Allecto will
possess the palace, or cruel Megaera, brandishing her twisted snakes?
An earlier
sorrow invites a greater, and the Queen scarcely
bears up in such evil circumstances. What whirlwind will snatch me up
and bear me through the air, so that I shall not have to hear the sad
complaints of this unhappy household and a mother’s mournful
lamentations? [Enter the Archbishop.]
ARCH.
(Lett his servants be about him with swords.) Although the
night is not yet routed, the sun begins to renew the day. Not yet
does Phoebus’ sister yield up her duty to her brother, or the
night, now far advanced, withdraw its scattered light as sunshine
strikes the sky. Why do you seek to visit us under shadow of night? A
huge sorrow requires a swift cure, nor does a sick mind tolerate
delays. You must calm the mother’s upset mind. (Let them bee
knocking in the pallace as remoovinge.) But what’s this
tumult? What a crowd at the palace! Tell me what this nocturnal
hubbub means.
LADY Archbishop of York, splendid with honor, do you ask me to recall all
these dire
calamities? After the moon had enjoined sleep on the
weary and dark night had loomed at dusk, the hall was filled with the
rumor that Rivers and his nephew Grey are oppressed in dire straits:
nobody knows what place holds the sovereign. When they revealed all
these ills to the Queen, her mind, struck with sudden fear, froze,
and, alas, her limbs went slack and she fainted. After the poor woman
regained her strength, she immediately assaulted the stars with her
speech. “Spare me, harsh Fates. Ah me, what are you doing? What
crime do you inspire? If You require punishments, dear God, hurl Your
vengeful torches on my head. What has this innocent boy done? What
has a little child done
to warrant destruction? You are destroying our family in a
single calamity.”
Soon her neck could not hold up her head. Her cheeks grew wet with
copious tears and her heart sadly burned with great sorrows. She
removed her splendid royal raiment, the noble purple. She never
stayed quiet: she flew hither and thither. She ordered her body be
lifted up, set down. And, always restless, she quickly changed her
place, striking the heaven with her complaints. Now she mourned her
son, now the destruction of her kinsmen, and, tormented by her great
hurts, she bewailed her late love for her dead consort. Soon she bade
her servants rush her purple raiments and her yellow gold into the
asylum, her furniture, and whatever great wealth the palace
possessed. And, lest a slight delay hinder the porters, she ordered
them break down the inner walls in that direction where the palace
was separated from the asylum, so that a way would lie open to the
shrine. Distraught, she held her dear son in her lap and, summoning
her five daughters, she fled to the holy altars. Meanwhile, shaking
with fear like an animal which fears to be broken by the great maw of
a lion feeding upon its prey, I have come out to seek your advice
and help.
A curtaine being drawne,
let the Queene appear in the sanctuary, her 5 daughters and maydes
about her sitting on packs, fardell, chests, coffers.
QUEEN Excellent father of York city, what can be lacking to our ills?
What wretch can outdo my sufferings? In vain we fear those things we
dreaded to fear before. Alas, we are the small remnants of a great
household, and only the holy shrine protects us helpless people. Our
kinsmen are preparing for a bitter death, and our servants do not
know what place holds the King. Are we not ruined? Does any hope
remain for our house?
ARCH. Put
aside
your fears, let go your anxious cares. Whatever ill this may be
results from misunderstanding. How can heavy sorrow revive an unhappy
mind? Rather, be more hopeful about these things. Just now, when dark
night had urged sleep upon me, a messenger sent by Lord Hastings
roused me from the slumber in which I was buried. He informed me that
the Dukes were tarrying at Northampton, where the King was staying,
protected by his subjects. Let nobody deceive your heart with fear,
for all will finally end for the best.
QUEEN That
man,
that man Hastings, harsh to our family, prepares ruin for his
sovereign. Behold I, a suppliant mother, beg that the vengeful gods
destroy this awful man with their horrible fires.
ARCH.
Abandon
your raging spirit’s frantic urgings and, being prudent, cease
your mind’s harsh outbursts. I swear by the power of the gods,
who with their hands make the stars turn, if they crown anybody other
than your son, the very next day I shall at once surrender the
insignia of the realm to this brother of his. Look here, now I shall
give over to you the Great Seal, which once your husband entrusted to
me, for the benefit of the son you now protect. [The curtains
that had opened to reveal the interior scene now close, leaving the
Archbishop alone.]
Mighty ruler of Olympus, loud-thundering Father, heal the peaceful
calm of the nation, so that the heir may wield the scepter in his
youthful hand, lest the realm fall as a harsh prize to conquerors,
and the Lancastrians put their hopes in another war.
But what are
you
doing? What forgetfulness seizes your mind? To hand over the Great
Seal to someone! To whom have you offered it? To a woman? She has
always been hostile to you. The Dukes will mock your loyalty, while
the great care of the kingdom is rashly betrayed. Surely you don’t
trust the woman? She will easily be overcome, and the Duke’s
violence will come down on your head alone. So I shall send somebody
to fetch the Seal secretly, lest the Dukes condemn my fickle
trust.
A SERVANT OF GLOUCESTER, TUMULTUOUS CHORUS OF CITIZENS, LORD HASTINGS, THE ARCHBISHOP OF YORK
SERV. Now a
guard protects any street you care to name, and a host of boats crowd
the Thames, so that no refugee may reach asylum. Do not fear any
flight to sanctuary, Claudian Duke. The Queen’s wealth is not
reaching the shrine. (Let artificers come running out with clubs
and staves.) Why are you rioting, rascals? Where is Elizabeth’s
rage driving these madmen?
CHORUS [Variously.]
— City, city, to arms, to arms! — See,
arms concealed in barrels are being carted, with which rebels are
secretly preparing the Duke’s destruction. (Some armed with
privy coates with gownes throwne over. Some unarmed.) — What
evil is this great upheaval working? — The Thames has sprouted
ships. — The Queen flees, carrying many arms with her. — But they’re
storing the arms. If they were posing a threat, they wouldn’t
be carrying them on wagons. — Let God punish the woman’s dire
crime! — But may God protect you, little prince!
ARCH.
Noble Peers of the realm, does some bold rumor deceive the unwary,
spreading
new fears? Or does some old evil grow to our
sorrow? Does raging ambition seek to reclaim its old kingdom and
demand it as a prize? Headlong riot brooks no easy delay. The
trembling mother is prostrate at the altars, a suppliant. The Queen
is suspicious about her son’s reign. Several Lords are
imprisoned, whose loyalty to the King is warrants safety. The King’s
helpless youth easily allows wrongdoing. Lest anybody at all stir up
crime unbeknownst to the King, our duty is to take counsel until it
becomes clearer what manner of trickery is afoot. But great Hastings
approaches. [Enter Lord Hastings.]
HAST.
It has not escaped your notice, dear citizens, with what tokens of
affection the King lately embraced me. And the kindly gifts of such a
King compel me to care for his beloved progeny. If I were not to
defend their lives with my death, there is no worse mark of infamy
with which I could be branded. It grieves me that the peace is
disrupted by empty rumor, and that the English are disturbed by
various murmurings. As
a visitor to London, I see the subjects go a-rioting, looting as they
fly about
through every building. What good does it do to
trouble your hearts with pointless terror? What lies are chattering
mouths telling? Gloucester’s loyalty is sufficiently well known
to me. Look here, he is leading the little King with a swift escort,
for the sole reason of crowning his young head with a golden diadem.
But the Nobles whom hard surveillance weighs down seek treacherously
to wound the Duke of Gloucester with slanders. They shiver in jail
until the sacred Council puts them on trial. As your suppliant, I beg
one thing of you: do not let your feelings prejudice your minds for
the future. Let not these quarrels flourish to work public harm. Let
no troublemaker provoke you into fighting. Although the most
justified of wars can be urged, the cause of whosoever use their
weapons to guard the sovereign is always juster. As the royal boy
approaches its walls, let a peaceful city congratulate its
prince.
KING EDWARD, THE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON
ED. Now that I have left the uncouth
regions of a savage race, I return safely to
my father’s home. Here the splendor of a proud city shines, and
the glory of the famous realm is most brilliant. Dear city, I greet
you. There was no like joy for the Argives after so many defeats of
Asia, when after a long war they first saw the longed-for realms of
their nation and the wealth of Argos. Your return scarcely appeared
so happy for you, Ulysses, a wanderer for so many years, even though
in your misfortune you had been rescued from so many shipwrecks, as
my joy now swells when I return to the nation I have missed so long
as a guest abroad. My long journey has denied me the sight of
London.
MAYOR
Illustrious ornament of the nation, famous King, see how a happy band
of citizens pours itself out so as to offer much greeting to its
prince. Every citizen will eagerly beseech God with prayer that you,
a second. happy sun,
will light up our sky. (The King goeing about the stage.)
Behold our King, fellow citizens, shining with royal honor. Behold
the mighty boy, dear Englishmen. Faithful subject, you see your
ruler, outstanding in virtue.