Act 2, Scene 3 — Henry VI, Part 2

The argument A Hall of Justice: Henry pronounces sentence on Eleanor and her co-conspirators — the witch to be burned, the others hanged, Eleanor herself to do three days of public penance before banishment to the Isle of Man. Gloucester accepts the law's judgment and surrenders his Protector's staff when Henry asks for it. Margaret publicly celebrates the double blow — Eleanor ruined, Gloucester stripped. Then the court watches the trial by combat between Horner the armourer (drunk, prodded by his neighbours) and Peter Thump (terrified, distributing his belongings as a death gift). Peter wins; Horner dies confessing treason; Henry credits God's justice.

Sound trumpets. Enter the King, the Queen, Gloucester, York, Suffolk

and Salisbury; the Duchess of Gloucester, Margery Jourdain, Southwell,

Hume and Bolingbroke under guard.

KING HENRY ≋ verse [solemnly pronouncing the harsh sentence]

Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester’s wife.

In sight of God and us, your guilt is great;

Receive the sentence of the law for sins

Such as by God’s book are adjudged to death.

You four, from hence to prison back again;

From thence unto the place of execution.

The witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes,

And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.

You, madam, for you are more nobly born,

Despoiled of your honour in your life,

Shall, after three days’ open penance done,

Live in your country here in banishment,

With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.

Come forward, Lady Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester's wife. Before God and us, your guilt is clear. Accept the law's sentence for crimes that God's book says deserve death. You four will go back to prison from here, then to the place of execution. The witch will be burned to ashes in Smithfield, and you three will be hanged on the gallows. You, madam, being nobly born, will lose your honor in life and after three days of public penance will live here in exile with Sir John Stanley on the Isle of Man.

Eleanor Cobham, step forward. Before God and everyone here, your guilt is clear. You're going to receive the punishment the law demands for these crimes that deserve death. You four are going back to prison and then to execution. The witch will be burned to ashes at Smithfield, and three of you will be hanged. But you, Eleanor, since you're nobly born, will just lose your honor and reputation. After three days of public penance, you'll be banished to live with Sir John Stanley on the Isle of Man.

eleanor ur guilty law says death but banishment instead three days penance then isle of man

"The witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes" Margery Jourdain, the witch hired for Eleanor's séance, receives the most severe penalty — burning was the statutory punishment for witchcraft. The public location (Smithfield) ensures maximum visibility.

"three days' open penance" A ritualised public shaming: Eleanor would walk through London streets barefoot, in a white sheet, carrying a candle — a spectacle the audience of 2-4 will witness. For a duchess, this social death is designed to be worse than exile.

"with Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man" The Stanley family controlled the Isle of Man under royal grant. Sending Eleanor there puts her under effective house arrest at the furthest comfortable remove from London.

Why it matters Henry pronounces the sentence himself — a rare moment of direct royal authority. The distinctions in punishment reveal the hierarchy: commoners burn and hang; a duchess is publicly humiliated but survives. Even justice has a class system.

ELEANOR [despairing, welcoming any fate now]

Welcome is banishment; welcome were my death.

Exile would be welcome. Death would be equally welcome.

I'd welcome exile. I'd actually welcome death even more.

banishment is fine death would be better

Why it matters Eleanor's one-line response to her sentence is a compressed portrait of a woman who knows everything is over and has moved past fear. The line is defiant and exhausted simultaneously.

GLOUCESTER ≋ verse [pained, unable to defend her]

Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee.

I cannot justify whom the law condemns.

Eleanor, as you see, the law has judged you. I cannot defend someone the law has condemned.

Eleanor, the law has spoken. I can't argue against what the law decides.

the law judged you i can't fight it

Why it matters Gloucester's farewell to Eleanor in open court is eight words of devastating restraint: "I cannot justify whom the law condemns." He won't lie for her, won't protect her from earned consequences — but the pain is visible in the brevity.

[_Exeunt Duchess and the other prisoners, guarded._]

GLOUCESTER ≋ verse [grieving, asking leave to withdraw]

Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.

Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age

Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!—

I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go;

Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease.

My eyes are filled with tears and my heart with grief. Ah, Humphrey, this shameful disgrace in your old age will bring your head down to the ground with sorrow! I beg your Majesty, please let me leave. Being alone with my grief would comfort me, and my old age needs rest.

My eyes are full of tears and my heart is breaking. Humphrey, this shame in your old age will crush you into the ground with grief! Please, your Majesty, let me go. I need to be alone to grieve, and my tired body needs rest.

im heartbroken this shame will destroy him please let me leave i need solitude i need rest

KING HENRY ≋ verse [gently but firmly stripping his office]

Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester. Ere thou go,

Give up thy staff. Henry will to himself

Protector be; and God shall be my hope,

My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet.

And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved

Than when thou wert Protector to thy king.

Wait, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester. Before you leave, give up your staff. Henry will be his own Protector, and God will be my hope, my support, my guide, and light to my feet. Go in peace, Humphrey, no less loved than when you were my Protector.

Hold on, Duke Humphrey. Before you go, hand over your staff. I'll be my own Protector now, and God will guide me. Go in peace—you're no less beloved to me than ever.

give up your staff im protecting myself go in peace i still love you

"Give up thy staff" The Lord Protector's staff is the physical emblem of his power over the kingdom during the king's minority (or incapacity). Surrendering it is the formal act of resignation — everything Gloucester has built is in this object.

"Henry will to himself / Protector be" Henry declares personal rule — but the tragedy is that Henry is constitutionally incapable of governing alone. He says this sincerely; the audience knows it means chaos.

Why it matters Henry asks warmly, even lovingly — which makes this worse. He is not wresting the staff in anger; he is receiving it as a gift, wrapped in affection. The gentleness of the dispossession makes it more complete. And Henry's declaration of self-governance, with God as his only Protector, is the play's most quietly devastating line: a king announcing he needs no earthly help, precisely when England needs it most.

🎭 Dramatic irony Henry says "Henry will to himself / Protector be; and God shall be my hope" as he takes the staff from Gloucester. Without Gloucester, Henry has no effective governance — he is immediately dominated by Margaret and the court faction. He will prove incapable of being his own Protector.

QUEEN MARGARET ≋ verse [pressing her advantage, triumphant]

I see no reason why a king of years

Should be to be protected like a child.

God and King Henry govern England’s realm!

Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm.

I don't see why a grown king should need protection like a child. God and King Henry rule England! Hand over your staff and let the King have his kingdom.

A king who's come of age doesn't need a guardian like a child does. God and Henry rule England! Give up that staff and let the King actually rule.

he's old enough he can rule himself give up the staff

Why it matters Margaret's interjection confirms this was arranged: Henry's gentle request is backed by Margaret's impatient pressure. Together they create a pincer. Her line "Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm" is deliberately humiliating — reducing Gloucester's role to a theft of royal authority.

GLOUCESTER ≋ verse [surrendering his office with dignity]

My staff? Here, noble Henry, is my staff.

As willingly do I the same resign

As e’er thy father Henry made it mine;

And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it

As others would ambitiously receive it.

Farewell, good King. When I am dead and gone,

May honourable peace attend thy throne.

My staff? Here it is, noble Henry. I give it up as willingly as your father Henry gave it to me. I leave it at your feet as willingly as others would eagerly grab it. Farewell, good King. When I am dead and gone, may honorable peace attend your throne.

My staff? Here, Henry. I'm handing it over just as freely as your father gave it to me. I'm laying it down at your feet without hesitation—unlike some people who'd cling to power. Goodbye, my King. I hope peace stays with your throne when I'm gone.

here's your staff i give it freely goodbye king be at peace

"As willingly do I the same resign / As e'er thy father Henry made it mine" Gloucester received the Protectorate from Henry V on his deathbed. Returning it to Henry VI completes a circle — and signals that Gloucester sees his life's work as done.

"When I am dead and gone" A farewell wish, but also an unintentional prophecy — Gloucester will be murdered before long. The audience who know the story feel the line land differently than Gloucester intends it.

Why it matters Gloucester's staff-surrender speech is one of his finest moments — and one of the play's most quietly heartbreaking. He doesn't rage, doesn't accuse, doesn't bargain. He simply sets down forty years of service and says goodbye. The contrast with Margaret's acquisitive glee in the next speech is devastating.

[_Exit._]

QUEEN MARGARET ≋ verse [gloating over his downfall]

Why, now is Henry King and Margaret Queen,

And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself,

That bears so shrewd a maim. Two pulls at once;

His lady banished, and a limb lopped off.

This staff of honour raught, there let it stand

Where it best fits to be, in Henry’s hand.

So now Henry is King and Margaret is Queen, and Humphrey barely holds himself together after this cruel blow. He's been hit twice: his wife is banished and he's lost his power. This staff of honor has passed to him—let it stay where it belongs, in Henry's hands.

Now Henry's King and Margaret's Queen, and poor Humphrey can barely keep himself together after this brutal hit. He's being crushed from both sides: his wife's banished and he's lost all power. The staff came his way, but it stays right there in Henry's grip.

now henry's king margaret's queen humphrey's destroyed wife banished power gone staff stays with henry

"Two pulls at once" Margaret uses a dental or surgical metaphor — simultaneously extracting two painful things. Her pleasure in the efficiency is telling: she's been engineering this for multiple scenes.

"This staff of honour raught" "Raught" is past tense of "reach" — the staff has been reached for and taken. Margaret frames what just happened as a retrieval of something rightfully Henry's, not a seizure.

Why it matters Margaret's gleeful commentary immediately after Gloucester exits is the scene's moral nadir. She is openly exultant over a good man's destruction, and she frames the staff as being where it "best fits" — in Henry's hand — which is precisely where it will do the least good.

SUFFOLK ≋ verse [savoring their ruin poetically]

Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays;

Thus Eleanor’s pride dies in her youngest days.

So this tall pine tree droops and its branches hang down. Just so, Eleanor's pride dies in her youth.

There goes the mighty pine, sagging and wilting. That's how Eleanor's pride dies—in her prime.

the tall pine droops eleanor's pride dies young

"Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays" Suffolk uses the classical image of the fallen great tree — a noble image (pines are tall, proud) now drooping. The botanical register echoes the garden metaphors of 2-2.

YORK ≋ verse [briskly moving to the next business]

Lords, let him go.—Please it your majesty,

This is the day appointed for the combat,

And ready are the appellant and defendant,

The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,

So please your highness to behold the fight.

Lords, let him go. Your majesty, if it pleases you, today is the appointed day for the combat. The appellant and defendant are ready—the armourer and his man—to enter the arena. If it pleases your highness, watch the fight.

Let him go, everyone. Your Majesty, if you wish, today is the day for this trial by combat. The armourer and his servant are ready to fight. Please watch.

let him go this is combat day armorer vs servant wanna watch

"the lists" The enclosed arena (the "lists") prepared for formal trial by combat — barriers, drums, heralds, the full ceremonial apparatus of judicial single combat.

Why it matters York's "Let him go" is one of the play's most casual cruelties — Gloucester has just surrendered his life's work and York shrugs it off in three words, pivoting immediately to the entertainment. For York, Gloucester's fall is already filed and finished.

🎭 Dramatic irony York watches Gloucester surrender the staff and immediately pivots to the combat — "Lords, let him go." In 2-2 York had plotted to let the faction destroy Gloucester. Here he watches it happen in real time and simply moves on to the next item of business. His patience is not sympathy — it is strategy.

QUEEN MARGARET ≋ verse [eager for the spectacle to come]

Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore

Left I the court to see this quarrel tried.

Yes, good my lord, I left the court specifically to see this quarrel resolved.

Yes, I left court specifically to watch this fight get settled.

yeah i came to see this

KING HENRY ≋ verse [hoping earnestly justice prevails]

I’ God’s name, see the lists and all things fit.

Here let them end it, and God defend the right!

In God's name, make sure the arena and everything is ready. Let them settle it here, and God will defend the right!

In God's name, check that everything's set up properly. Let them fight this out, and God will judge who's right.

make sure everything's ready let them fight god will judge

"God defend the right" The formula of trial by combat: God will reveal truth by giving victory to the innocent party. Henry means this completely sincerely. The comic irony is that God will indeed defend the right — through a drunk man's inability to fight.

YORK ≋ verse [contemptuously sizing up the appellant]

I never saw a fellow worse bested,

Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,

The servant of his armourer, my lords.

I've never seen a man more overwhelmed or more afraid to fight than this appellant, the servant of his armourer, gentlemen.

I've never seen anyone more defeated or more terrified to fight than this servant, guys.

this guy looks so scared

Enter at one door Horner the armourer, and his Neighbours, drinking to

YORK [wryly amused at the drunken spectacle]

him so much that he is drunk; and he enters with a drum before him and

his staff with a sandbag fastened to it; and at the other door Peter,

his man, with a drum and sandbag, and Prentices drinking to him.

so drunk that he enters carrying a drum, with a sandbag tied to his staff. Peter enters from the other side with a drum and sandbag, followed by apprentices who have been drinking toasts to his health.

so drunk he can barely stand. He comes in with a drum and his staff rigged with a sandbag. Peter enters from the other side with a drum and sandbag, and the apprentices are cheering and drinking to him.

horner drunk drums sandbags apprentices cheering him on

FIRST NEIGHBOUR [encouraging him with forced cheer]

Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack; and fear not,

neighbour, you shall do well enough.

Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to your health in a cup of wine. Don't worry, neighbour, you'll handle the fight well enough.

Here, Horner, have some wine in your honor. Don't worry, neighbour, you're gonna be fine.

heres wine horner du you got this

SECOND NEIGHBOUR [jovially plying him with drink]

And here, neighbour, here’s a cup of charneco.

And here, neighbour, here's a cup of sweet wine for you.

And here's some sweet wine too, neighbour.

heres sweet wine too

THIRD NEIGHBOUR [bolstering his courage with beer]

And here’s a pot of good double beer, neighbour. Drink, and fear not

your man.

And here's a pot of strong beer, neighbour. Drink up and don't worry about facing your opponent.

And here's a big pot of strong beer. Drink up and don't worry about fighting the guy.

heres strong beer drink don't worry about ur guy

HORNER [drunken bravado masking his fear]

Let it come, i’ faith, and I’ll pledge you all; and a fig for Peter!

1 PRENTICE.

Here, Peter, I drink to thee, and be not afraid.

2 PRENTICE.

Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master. Fight for credit of the

prentices.

Bring it on, truly, and I'll drink with all of you—and forget about Peter! Apprentice, I drink to you, Peter, don't be afraid. Apprentice, be cheerful, Peter, don't fear your master. Fight for the honor of the apprentices.

Bring it on, by God, and I'll drink with everyone here. To hell with Peter! Apprentice, I drink to you—don't be scared! Come on, Peter, be happy and don't fear him. Fight to bring honor to all apprentices!

drink up peter dont be scared fight for the apprentices

"a fig for Peter" "A fig" was a vulgar dismissive gesture (thrusting the thumb between two fingers) — the Elizabethan equivalent of a rude hand gesture. Horner is drunk enough to insult his accuser publicly before the fight.

Why it matters The pre-combat drinking ritual is Shakespeare's class comedy: on one side, an armourer's neighbours toasting him with sack and charneco (a sweet wine); on the other, apprentices cheering their underdog. Both rituals parody the high-court ceremony that preceded this scene.

PETER [terrified, bidding tearful farewells]

I thank you all. Drink, and pray for me, I pray you, for I think I have

taken my last draught in this world. Here, Robin, an if I die, I give

thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer; and here, Tom,

take all the money that I have. O Lord bless me! I pray God, for I am

never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much fence

already.

Thank you all. Drink and pray for me, I beg you, because I think this is my last drink in this world. Here, Robin, if I die, I give you my apron. Will, you'll get my hammer. Tom, take all the money I have. Lord bless me! I pray to God, because I can't possibly defeat my master—he's already learned so much swordplay.

Thanks, everyone. Drink and pray for me, please, because I think I'm about to die. Robin, if I don't make it, take my apron. Will, my hammer's yours. Tom, get all my money. God help me! I've got no chance against him—he's trained too much.

pray for me i think im gonna die here's my stuff he's too good

"I give thee my apron... thou shalt have my hammer... take all the money" Peter's impromptu bequest — distributing his modest estate (apron, hammer, money) to friends before the fight — is simultaneously funny and touching. A craftsman's entire worldly wealth fits in three gifts.

"he hath learnt so much fence already" "Fence" = fencing, swordsmanship. An armourer who makes weapons also knows how to use them; Peter's terror is rational. The comedy of the scene rests on Peter being right about his danger and wrong about the outcome.

Why it matters Peter's farewell gifts are the scene's human core amid the spectacle. He's not a politician or a noble — he's a craftsman who told the truth and now faces death for it. His casual disposal of his few possessions makes the stakes real at a scale the Eleanor-Gloucester drama can't quite reach.

SALISBURY ≋ verse [impatiently calling them to order]

Come, leave your drinking and fall to blows.

Sirrah, what’s thy name?

Come on, stop drinking and start fighting. Tell me, what's your name?

Alright, enough drinking, let's fight. What's your name?

stop drinking fight what's ur name

PETER [answering meekly, still shaken]

Peter, forsooth.

Peter, truly.

Peter.

peter

SALISBURY [brusquely pressing for his surname]

Peter? What more?

Peter? What's your last name?

Peter? Your last name?

peter what

PETER [deadpan despite his terror]

Thump.

thump

SALISBURY [wryly jesting at the name]

Thump! Then see thou thump thy master well.

Thump! Then make sure you thump your master well.

Thump! Then you better thump your master good.

thump ur master hard

"Thump! Then see thou thump thy master well" The joke writes itself — a man named "Thump" is ordered to thump someone. Salisbury plays it straight, which makes it funnier. This comic moment sits between Gloucester's resignation and Horner's death confession without apology.

Why it matters The Thump/thump exchange is Shakespeare allowing himself a pun in the middle of political tragedy — and getting away with it because it's Salisbury, not a fool, who makes it. The joke also humanizes Salisbury briefly before reminding us he just pledged treason in a garden.

HORNER [blustering into the attack]

Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man’s instigation, to

prove him a knave and myself an honest man; and touching the Duke of

York, I will take my death I never meant him any ill, nor the King, nor

the Queen; and therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow!

Gentlemen, I've come here, prompted by my servant's accusation, to prove he's dishonest and I'm honest. As for the Duke of York, I swear I never meant him any harm, nor the King, nor the Queen. So Peter, here comes a direct blow!

Gentlemen, I'm here because my servant accused me, so I'll prove he's a crook and I'm honest. About the Duke of York—I swear I never wanted to hurt him, the King, or the Queen. So Peter, take this straight hit!

i didn't hurt the duke i'm honest take this blow

"I will take my death I never meant him any ill" "Take my death" = swear on my life. Horner's earnest denial is undermined by his visible drunkenness — the audience can see the performance is not quite credible, and his death will shortly confirm the truth.

Why it matters Horner's pre-combat declaration is both legally required and visibly impaired by drink — a comic contrast that Shakespeare uses to prepare the audience for his confession. The man protesting his innocence while obviously drunk is a courtroom archetype.

YORK [impatiently mocking his drunken slurring]

Dispatch! This knave’s tongue begins to double.

Hurry up! This rogue is starting to stammer and speak confusedly.

Come on, hurry! The guy's losing his nerve and rambling.

stop talking just fight

"this knave's tongue begins to double" "Double" means to speak in a doubled, slurred, confused way — York recognizes Horner is losing coherence. His concern is the ceremony, not the man.

Sound, trumpets. Alarum to the combatants!

[_They fight, and Peter strikes him down._]

HORNER [panicked, confessing defeat]

Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason.

Stop, Peter, stop! I confess, I confess to treason.

Hold on, Peter! I confess! I'm guilty of treason!

stop i confess im guilty

Why it matters The confession at death is the scene's judicial resolution. God has "defended the right" exactly as Henry prayed — through the mechanism of a drunk man being beaten by a terrified apprentice. The absurdity is the point: justice arrives, but not through dignity.

↩ Callback to Act 1, Scene 3 Peter first accused Horner of treason in 1-3, triggering this combat. The combat's resolution here completes that plot thread.

[_Dies._]

YORK [wryly crediting luck over skill]

Take away his weapon.—Fellow, thank God and the good wine in thy

master’s way.

Take away his weapon. Fellow, thank God and the good wine your master gave you.

Take away his weapon. Peter, thank God and all that wine your master fed you—that's what saved you.

thank god and that wine it saved you

"thank God and the good wine in thy master's way" York's verdict is characteristically clear-eyed: Peter won because God willed it AND because Horner was drunk. York credits both without embarrassment. He doesn't pretend the divine mechanism was noble.

Why it matters York's deadpan acknowledgment that Peter owes his victory to divine providence AND his master's alcoholism is one of the play's finest one-liners. It refuses to dignify the combat with false solemnity.

PETER [astonished and elated at his win]

O God, have I overcome mine enemies in this presence? O Peter, thou

hast prevailed in right!

God, have I defeated my enemies here? Peter, you have won righteously!

God, did I actually beat my enemy? Peter, you've won justly!

i won i was right

Why it matters Peter addresses himself in the third person — the shock of survival pushing him outside his own body. "Thou hast prevailed in right" is not triumphalism; it's astonishment. He genuinely did not expect to live.

KING HENRY ≋ verse [relieved, rewarding the underdog]

Go, take hence that traitor from our sight,

For by his death we do perceive his guilt.

And God in justice hath revealed to us

The truth and innocence of this poor fellow,

Which he had thought to have murdered wrongfully.

Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.

Take that traitor away from my sight. By his death we understand his guilt. And God in justice has revealed to us the truth and innocence of this poor man, whom he tried to have murdered without cause. Come, fellow, follow us to receive your reward.

Get that traitor out of here! His death proves his guilt. God has shown us the truth—this poor man is innocent, and the other guy tried to have him killed for nothing. Come on, follow me and get your reward.

take the traitor away god proved peter was right follow me for ur reward

"by his death we do perceive his guilt" The logic of trial by combat: the loser is guilty because God would not permit an innocent man to lose. Henry applies this formula completely sincerely. The fact that Horner was drunk makes Henry's theological certainty quietly comic.

Why it matters Henry's conclusion follows the formal logic of trial by combat perfectly — and that logic is correct by accident. Horner was guilty; Peter was innocent; God did defend the right. The mechanism was ridiculous; the outcome was just. Shakespeare refuses to let either comedy or justice swallow the other.

[_Sound a flourish. Exeunt._]

The Reckoning

This is the scene where Gloucester's political life ends publicly and without drama — he simply hands over the staff of office and walks away. Shakespeare makes this quiet moment more devastating than any battle. Meanwhile the Horner-Peter combat is slapstick that resolves serious consequences: a man dies, treason is confirmed, and a frightened apprentice discovers he prevailed 'in right.'

If this happened today…

Imagine a cabinet minister watching his spouse convicted of fraud in open court, then being handed a resignation letter by the prime minister — politely, with warm words — right afterward in the same room. Then the same afternoon, a workplace grievance hearing somehow resolves itself when the accused manager shows up visibly drunk. Comic and tragic in the same afternoon, both matters closed.

Continue to 2.4 →