Eleanor speaks in the register of impatience — she cannot understand why a man next in line to the throne would choose deference over ambition. Her speeches are full of imperatives: reach, lift, seize. Watch for how she turns her husband's restraint into a personal insult.
Why droops my lord, like over-ripened corn
Hanging the head at Ceres’ plenteous load?
Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows,
As frowning at the favours of the world?
Why are thine eyes fixed to the sullen earth,
Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight?
What seest thou there? King Henry’s diadem,
Enchased with all the honours of the world?
If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face,
Until thy head be circled with the same.
Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
What, is’t too short? I’ll lengthen it with mine;
And, having both together heaved it up,
We’ll both together lift our heads to heaven,
And never more abase our sight so low
As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.
Why does my lord droop like overripe corn hanging its head under its heavy burden? Why does the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, looking displeasured at the world's favors? Why are your eyes fixed to the dark ground, gazing at what seems to dim your sight? What do you see there? King Henry's crown, decorated with all the honors of the world? If so, gaze on and crawl on your face until your head is circled with the same. Put forth your hand, reach for the glorious gold. What, is it too short? I'll stretch it with mine; and having both together lifted it up, we'll both together raise our heads to heaven, and never more lower our sight so low as to glance at the ground.
Why are you so gloomy, honey? Like corn that's bent over from its own weight? Why is the great Duke looking so upset, as if the world has wronged him? Why are you staring at the ground like something's pulling your eyes down? What do you see there—the king's crown with all its glory? Well look at it all you want and crawl after it until it's yours. Reach out and grab that golden crown. Too far away? I'll help you reach it. Together we'll get it, and then we'll stand up tall and look at the sky instead of groveling at the ground.
why u so sad why stare at the ground that crown could be urs reach for it ill help u we can have it together
O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord,
Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts.
And may that hour when I imagine ill
Against my King and nephew, virtuous Henry,
Be my last breathing in this mortal world!
My troublous dreams this night doth make me sad.
Oh Nell, sweet Nell, if you love your husband, banish the thought of ambition. And may that hour when I imagine anything wrong against my King and nephew, virtuous Henry, be my last breath in this mortal world! My troubled dreams tonight make me sad.
Nell, my sweet Nell, if you really love me, you've got to stop thinking about power and ambition. I'm asking you—if I ever even think about doing anything against the King, who is my nephew and a good man, may that be the moment I die. I had some awful dreams last night that are making me feel terrible.
nell stop thinking about ambition if i ever think wrong against henry may i die that moment my dreams tonight were bad
What dreamed my lord? Tell me, and I’ll requite it
With sweet rehearsal of my morning’s dream.
What did you dream of, my lord? Tell me, and I'll repay you with a pleasant account of my morning dream.
What did you dream about, honey? Come on, tell me. I'll trade you—I'll tell you about my dream from this morning.
what did u dream tell me & ill tell u mine
Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court,
Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot,
But, as I think, it was by th’ Cardinal,
And on the pieces of the broken wand
Were placed the heads of Edmund, Duke of Somerset
And William de la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk.
This was my dream; what it doth bode, God knows.
I thought my staff, my symbol of office in court, was broken in two; by whom I have forgotten, but as I think it was by the Cardinal, and on the pieces of the broken staff were placed the heads of Edmund, Duke of Somerset, and William de la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk. This was my dream; what it means, God knows.
I dreamed my staff of office was snapped in half—I forget who did it but I think it was the Cardinal. And here's the strange part: on those broken pieces they'd placed the heads of Somerset and Suffolk. That's what I dreamed. I don't know what it means, but it was disturbing.
dreamed my staff broke think the cardinal did it they put heads of somerset & suffolk on the pieces something bad is coming
Tut, this was nothing but an argument
That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester’s grove
Shall lose his head for his presumption.
But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet Duke:
Methought I sat in seat of majesty
In the cathedral church of Westminster
And in that chair where kings and queens are crowned,
Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneeled to me
And on my head did set the diadem.
Well, this was just a sign that whoever breaks a stick from Gloucester's grove will lose his head for his presumption. But listen to me, my Humphrey, my sweet Duke: I thought I sat in the seat of majesty in the cathedral church of Westminster, and in that chair where kings and queens are crowned, where Henry and Dame Margaret kneeled to me and on my head they set the crown.
Oh, that just means whoever messes with Gloucester gets his head cut off for daring to do it. But listen to my dream, Humphrey, my sweet Duke. I dreamed I was sitting on the throne in Westminster Cathedral, in the chair where kings and queens get crowned. And there were Henry and Margaret kneeling down to me, putting the crown on my head.
whoever breaks ur stuff loses his head but my dream—i was crowned queen in westminster cathedral henry & margaret kneeled to me
Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, is not a simple villain. She genuinely loves her husband, and her ambition on his behalf comes from a place of fierce loyalty as much as personal desire for power. The tragedy is that she understands the political situation — that Gloucester's enemies are closing in — better than Gloucester himself does. She's not wrong that his enemies want him destroyed. She's only wrong about the remedy: witchcraft and conspiracy is exactly the ammunition they need. Shakespeare refuses to make her stupid or purely vicious. She's a formidable woman who would have been an excellent queen, in a world that doesn't give her the formal power to protect what she loves. That doesn't excuse what she does. But it makes it genuinely sad.
Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright.
Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtured Eleanor,
Art thou not second woman in the realm,
And the Protector’s wife, beloved of him?
Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command,
Above the reach or compass of thy thought?
And wilt thou still be hammering treachery
To tumble down thy husband and thyself
From top of honour to disgrace’s feet?
Away from me, and let me hear no more!
No, Eleanor, then I must scold you directly. Presumptuous lady, badly brought up Eleanor, are you not the second woman in the realm and the Protector's wife, loved by him? Do you not have all worldly pleasures at your command, beyond what you could even imagine? And will you still plot treachery to bring down your husband and yourself from the height of honor to the depths of disgrace? Get away from me and let me hear no more!
No, Eleanor, you need a serious talking to. You're being presumptuous and rude, Eleanor. You're the second most important woman in England, and you're the wife of the Protector who loves you. You have everything you could possibly want—more than you could ever dream of. So why in the world are you still scheming to destroy your husband and yourself, to throw away all your honor and respect? Leave me alone and don't say another word!
eleanor ur out of line ur the protectors wife u have everything why scheme to ruin us stop it
What, what, my lord! Are you so choleric
With Eleanor for telling but her dream?
Next time I’ll keep my dreams unto myself,
And not be checked.
What, what, my lord! Are you so angry with Eleanor for only telling her dream? Next time I'll keep my dreams to myself and not be scolded.
What's this, my lord! Are you mad at me just for telling you my dream? Fine. Next time I won't tell you anything. I'll keep it to myself.
ur mad i told u a dream? fine ill shut up next time
Nay, be not angry, I am pleased again.
No, don't be angry, I am pleased again.
No, don't be upset. I'm okay now.
its ok im not mad anymore
My Lord Protector, ’tis his highness’ pleasure
You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans,
Whereas the King and Queen do mean to hawk.
My Lord Protector, it is his highness' pleasure that you prepare to ride to Saint Albans, where the King and Queen intend to go hawking.
My Lord Protector, the King would like you to get ready to ride to Saint Albans. The King and Queen are planning to go hawking there.
kings orders: ride to saint albans king & queen gonna go hawking
I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us?
I go. Come, Nell, will you ride with us?
I'll go. Come on, Nell—are you coming with us?
im going u coming nell
In the Tudor period, consulting spirits or witches to discover the fate of the monarch was not just morally suspect — it was a specific act of treason under statute. The question Eleanor asks ('what shall befall the King?') was precisely the kind of inquiry that could result in execution. The historical Eleanor Cobham was tried and convicted in 1441; her confederates were executed, and she was sentenced to public penance and life imprisonment. Shakespeare's audience would have known this story and understood the severity immediately. What makes Eleanor's case interesting is that the 'evidence' against her — the séance, the written prophecies — was set up by her enemies. She committed the crime, but she was also entrapped.
Yes, my good lord, I’ll follow presently.
Of course, my lord—I'll be right behind you.
Yes, my lord, I'll be right there.
yes ill be right behind u
Follow I must; I cannot go before
While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind.
Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks
And smooth my way upon their headless necks;
And, being a woman, I will not be slack
To play my part in Fortune’s pageant.—
Where are you there? Sir John! Nay, fear not, man,
We are alone; here’s none but thee and I.
I must follow; I cannot go before while Gloucester carries this base and humble attitude. If I were a man, a duke, and next in line for the throne, I would remove these tiresome obstacles and smooth my path over their headless bodies; and since I am a woman, I will not be lazy in playing my part in fortune's game. Where are you there? Sir John! Don't be afraid, man, we are alone; here is none but you and I.
I have to follow him—I can't lead while Gloucester is being so weak and humble. If I were a man and a duke and next to the throne, I'd get rid of all these obstacles and clear my own path by any means necessary. But since I'm a woman, I'll do what I can to make my fortune. Now where are you? Sir John! Don't worry, we're alone—it's just you and me.
i follow but i could lead if i were a man id crush these obstacles but im a woman so ill use what i have wheres john dont fear were alone
Hume is a villain with a sense of humor about it — his soliloquy is almost gleeful. Watch for his rhetorical habit of addressing himself ('How now, Sir John Hume!') as if he can barely believe his own knavery.
Jesus preserve your royal majesty!
May God protect you and keep you safe, your royal majesty!
May Jesus protect your royal majesty!
god save u your majesty
What sayst thou? Majesty! I am but grace.
What do you say? Majesty! I am but Grace.
What are you saying? Majesty? I'm just 'Grace,' not 'Majesty.'
majesty? im just grace
Gloucester's dream — his staff broken in two, with the heads of Somerset and Suffolk on the pieces — is both a psychological revelation and a plot spoiler. He is dreaming his own overthrow. The staff will indeed be broken (he surrenders it in 2-3). But Shakespeare gives the dream a twist: the heads on the broken pieces belong to his enemies, suggesting that even in his unconscious, Gloucester cannot frame a thought about his own fall without somehow defeating them. The dream comforts him when it shouldn't: he interprets the heads as punishment for presumption, when what it actually shows is that his fall will be the mechanism of their deaths. He's not wrong — but he's reading it in the wrong direction.
But, by the grace of God, and Hume’s advice,
Your grace’s title shall be multiplied.
With divine blessing and my counsel, your Grace, your titles and status will multiply far beyond what they now are.
Well, by God's grace and my advice, your Grace's title is going to be promoted—to something bigger.
but with gods grace & my help uur title will be bigger
What sayst thou, man? Hast thou as yet conferred
With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch,
With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?
And will they undertake to do me good?
What do you say, man? Have you spoken yet with Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch, with Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? And will they agree to help me?
So tell me—have you talked to Margery Jourdain, that clever witch, and Roger Bolingbroke, the magic man? Will they do what I need?
did u talk to the witch & conjurer will they help
This they have promised, to show your highness
A spirit raised from depth of underground,
That shall make answer to such questions
As by your Grace shall be propounded him.
They have promised to show your Grace a spirit raised from deep underground that will answer any questions you wish to ask it.
They promised to bring up a spirit from underground that will answer whatever questions you want to ask it.
theyll summon a spirit from below it'll answer ur questions
It is enough, I’ll think upon the questions.
When from Saint Albans we do make return,
We’ll see these things effected to the full.
Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man,
With thy confederates in this weighty cause.
That is enough, I'll consider what questions to ask. When we return from Saint Albans, we'll have all this done completely. Here, Hume, take this reward; enjoy yourself, man, with your partners in this important matter.
That's enough for now. I'll think about what to ask the spirit. When we come back from Saint Albans, we'll make this happen. Here, Hume, take this money as your reward. Go celebrate with your friends—you've done good work on this.
good ill think of questions when we get back from saint albans well do it here take money enjoy urself
Hume must make merry with the Duchess’ gold.
Marry, and shall. But, how now, Sir John Hume!
Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum;
The business asketh silent secrecy.
Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch;
Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil.
Yet have I gold flies from another coast.
I dare not say, from the rich cardinal
And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk,
Yet I do find it so. For, to be plain,
They, knowing Dame Eleanor’s aspiring humour,
Have hired me to undermine the Duchess
And buzz these conjurations in her brain.
They say “A crafty knave does need no broker”,
Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal’s broker.
Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near
To call them both a pair of crafty knaves.
Well, so its stands; and thus, I fear, at last
Hume’s knavery will be the Duchess’ wrack,
And her attainture will be Humphrey’s fall.
Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all.
Hume must have fun with the Duchess' gold. Sure, and he will. But wait now, Sir John Hume! Keep your lips sealed, and say nothing but silence; this business requires complete secrecy. The Duchess gives gold to hire the witch; gold can't go wrong, even if she were a demon. Yet I have gold from another source. I dare not say from the rich cardinal and from the great and newly-made Duke of Suffolk, yet I know it's true. To be plain, they, knowing the Duchess Eleanor's ambitious nature, have hired me to undermine her and plant these magical ideas in her head. They say 'A crafty knave needs no broker,' yet I am Suffolk and the Cardinal's broker. Hume, if you're not careful, you might call them both a pair of crafty knaves. So this is how it stands; and I fear that in the end, Hume's dishonesty will be the Duchess' ruin, and her downfall will bring Humphrey's fall. However it turns out, I'll have gold for all of it.
Time to make some money with the Duchess' gold. And I will. But hold on, Sir John Hume, listen to yourself! Keep your mouth shut and don't say a word—this is secret business. The Duchess is paying me gold to hire the witch, and gold is gold, doesn't matter what she's paying it for. But here's the thing—I'm getting paid from somewhere else too. I shouldn't say it's from the Cardinal and Suffolk, but let's be honest, it is. See, they know Eleanor is ambitious, so they hired me to trick her and get these magical ideas into her brain. They've got a saying: 'A crooked guy doesn't need a middleman.' But that's what I am—I'm the middleman for Suffolk and the Cardinal. And if I'm not careful about keeping my mouth shut, I might end up calling both of them crooked knaves myself. So here's the situation: the Duchess pays me, the Cardinal and Suffolk pay me, and either way, Eleanor's going to get caught and destroyed, which will bring Humphrey down too. But no matter what happens, I get paid.
gonna make money off the duchess silence is everything shes paying me for the witch but cardinals paying me too to trick her im getting paid both ways either way eleanor falls & humphrey goes down and i profit either way
The Reckoning
A scene in two halves with a brutal ironic hinge. In the first half, Gloucester refuses ambition with genuine conviction and begs Eleanor to banish it — he is the only honestly virtuous man in this play. In the second half, we learn that Hume, the agent Eleanor thinks is working for her, is actually working against her on behalf of her husband's enemies. Eleanor's ambition will destroy Gloucester precisely because she thought she was helping him. The scene ends with a soliloquy so cheerfully cynical it's almost funny — Hume will 'have gold for all.'
If this happened today…
A senior executive's spouse decides to 'help' by hiring a private investigator to dig up dirt on the rivals scheming against her husband. The PI takes her money — but he's already been retained by the rivals to gather evidence against her. Her loyalty to her husband is real; her judgment is catastrophically bad; and the PI is happily cashing two checks. The husband, meanwhile, has told her explicitly: stop, please, just be patient. She doesn't listen.