Start: Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forge...

Start: 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,

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,

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?

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

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

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.

Shakespeare, William, Henry VI Part 2, http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/2255/pg2255.html, Act 2, Scene 4.

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