Glo. No, stir not for your lives: let her pass by.
Duch. 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, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks;
And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame,
And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine.
Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell: forget this grief.
Duch. Ah, Gloster, 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 follow'd 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 rul'd, 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.
81 Mail'd up, completely wrapped up. with papers on my back, i. e. telling the nature of the crime or offence. (R)
88 deep-fet groans, i. e. deep
fetched groans. [Cf. III. i. 293, far-fet.]
36 advised, heedful. (R)
45 Asthat. forlorn, accented on the first syllable. (R)