SCENE 1. KENT. The Sea-shore near DOVER. Firing heard at Sea. Then enter from a Boat, a Captain, a Master, a Master's Mate, WALTER WHITMORE, and others; with them, SUFFOLK, and other Gentlemen, Prisoners. Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings, And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;- 1 Gent. What is my ransom, master? let me know. Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goes yours. Cap. What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns, And bear the name and port of gentlemen?- 1 Gent. I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life. 2 Gent. And so will I, and write home for it straight. Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die; [To Suff. And so should these, if I might have my will. Cap. Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live. Suff. Look on my George, I am a gentleman; Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. Whit. And so am I; my name is-Walter Whitmore. How now? why start'st thou? what, doth death affright? Suff. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death. A cunning man did calculate my birth, And told me that by Water I should die: [Lays hold on Suffolk. Suff. Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince, The duke of Suffolk, William de la Poole. Whit. The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags! Suff. Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke; Jove sometime went disguis'd, And why not I? Cap. But Jove was never slain as thou shalt be. Suff. Obscure and lowly swain, king Henry's blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster, Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my stirrup? Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board, Cap. Thou dar'st not for thy own. Poole? Poole? Sir Poole? lord? Ay, kennel, paddle, sink; whose filth and dirt For swallowing the treasure of the realm: Thy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the ground; Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again: For daring to affy a mighty lord Unto the daughter of a worthless king, Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy Hath slain their governors, surpris'd our forts, Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,- And now the house of York-thrust from the crown, And lofty proud encroaching tyranny,- Small things make base men proud: this villain here, By such a lowly vassal as thyself. Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me : I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel. Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death. What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop? 1 Gent. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair. Suff. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour. Far be it, we should honour such as these With humble suit: no, rather let my head Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any, F Save to the God of heaven, and to my king; Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more. A Roman sworder and banditto slave, Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates. [Exit Suff. with Whit. and others. Cap. And as for these whose ransom we have set, It is our pleasure, one of them depart:Therefore come you with us, and let him go. [Exeunt all but the first Gentleman. Re-enter WHITMORE, with Suffolk's Body. 1 Gent. O barbarous and bloody spectacle! [Exit. [Exit with the Body. SCENE II. BLACKHEATH. Enter GEORGE BEVIS and JOHN HOLLAND. Geo. Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have been up these two days. John. They have the more need to sleep now then. Geo. I tell thee, Jack Cade, the clothier, means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it. John. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, I say, it was never merry world in England, since gentlemen came up. |