Shakespeare's First Folio Part 378

2.Gent. And so will I, and write home for it straight

Whitm. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboord, And therefore to reuenge it, shalt thou dye, And so should these, if I might haue my will

Lieu. Be not so rash, take ransome, let him liue

Suf. Looke on my George, I am a Gentleman, Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be payed

Whit. And so am I: my name is Walter Whitmore.

How now? why starts thou? What doth death affright?

Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death: A cunning man did calculate my birth, And told me that by Water I should dye: Yet let not this make thee be b.l.o.o.d.y-minded, Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded

Whit. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not, Neuer yet did base dishonour blurre our name, But with our sword we wip'd away the blot.

Therefore, when Merchant-like I sell reuenge, Broke be my sword, my Armes torne and defac'd, And I proclaim'd a Coward through the world

Suf. Stay Whitmore, for thy Prisoner is a Prince, The Duke of Suffolke, William de la Pole

Whit. The Duke of Suffolke, m.u.f.fled vp in ragges?

Suf. I, but these ragges are no part of the Duke

Lieu. But Ioue was neuer slaine as thou shalt be, Obscure and lowsie Swaine, King Henries blood

Suf. The honourable blood of Lancaster Must not be shed by such a iaded Groome: Hast thou not kist thy hand, and held my stirrop?

Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth Mule, And thought thee happy when I shooke my head.

How often hast thou waited at my cup, Fed from my Trencher, kneel'd downe at the boord, When I haue feasted with Queene Margaret?

Remember it, and let it make thee Crest-falne, I, and alay this thy abortiue Pride: How in our voyding Lobby hast thou stood, And duly wayted for my comming forth?

This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalfe, And therefore shall it charme thy riotous tongue

Whit. Speak Captaine, shall I stab the forlorn Swain

Lieu. First let my words stab him, as he hath me

Suf. Base slaue, thy words are blunt, and so art thou

Lieu. Conuey him hence, and on our long boats side, Strike off his head

Suf. Thou dar'st not for thy owne

Lieu. Poole, Sir Poole? Lord, I kennell, puddle, sinke, whose filth and dirt Troubles the siluer Spring, where England drinkes: Now will I dam vp this thy yawning mouth, For swallowing the Treasure of the Realme.

Thy lips that kist the Queene, shall sweepe the ground: And thou that smil'dst at good Duke Humfries death, Against the senselesse windes shall grin in vaine, Who in contempt shall hisse at thee againe.

And wedded be thou to the Hagges of h.e.l.l, For daring to affye a mighty Lord Vnto the daughter of a worthlesse King, Hauing neyther Subiect, Wealth, nor Diadem: By diuellish policy art thou growne great, And like ambitious Sylla ouer-gorg'd, With gobbets of thy Mother-bleeding heart.

By thee Aniou and Maine were sold to France.

The false reuolting Normans thorough thee, Disdaine to call vs Lord, and Piccardie Hath slaine their Gouernors, surpriz'd our Forts, And sent the ragged Souldiers wounded home.

The Princely Warwicke, and the Neuils all, Whose dreadfull swords were neuer drawne in vaine, As hating thee, and rising vp in armes.

And now the House of Yorke thrust from the Crowne, By shamefull murther of a guiltlesse King, And lofty proud incroaching tyranny, Burnes with reuenging fire, whose hopefull colours Aduance our halfe-fac'd Sunne, striuing to s.h.i.+ne; Vnder the which is writ, Inuitis nubibus.

The Commons heere in Kent are vp in armes, And to conclude, Reproach and Beggerie, Is crept into the Pallace of our King, And all by thee: away, conuey him hence

Suf. O that I were a G.o.d, to shoot forth Thunder Vpon these paltry, seruile, abiect Drudges: Small things make base men proud. This Villaine heere, Being Captaine of a Pinnace, threatens more Then Bargulus the strong Illyrian Pyrate.

Drones sucke not Eagles blood, but rob Bee-hiues: It is impossible that I should dye By such a lowly Va.s.sall as thy selfe.

Thy words moue Rage, and not remorse in me: I go of Message from the Queene to France: I charge thee waft me safely crosse the Channell

Lieu. Water: W. Come Suffolke, I must waft thee to thy death

Suf. Pine gelidus timor occupat artus, it is thee I feare

Wal. Thou shalt haue cause to feare before I leaue thee.

What, are ye danted now? Now will ye stoope

1.Gent. My gracious Lord intreat him, speak him fair

Suf. Suffolkes Imperiall tongue is sterne and rough: Vs'd to command, vntaught to pleade for fauour.

Farre be it, we should honor such as these With humble suite: no, rather let my head Stoope to the blocke, then these knees bow to any, Saue to the G.o.d of heauen, and to my King: And sooner dance vpon a b.l.o.o.d.y pole, Then stand vncouer'd to the Vulgar Groome.

True n.o.bility, is exempt from feare: More can I beare, then you dare execute

Lieu. Hale him away, and let him talke no more: Come Souldiers, shew what cruelty ye can

Suf. That this my death may neuer be forgot.

Great men oft dye by vilde Bezonions.

A Romane Sworder, and Bandetto slaue Murder'd sweet Tully. Brutus b.a.s.t.a.r.d hand Stab'd Iulius Caesar. Sauage Islanders Pompey the Great, and Suffolke dyes by Pyrats.

Exit Water with Suffolke.

Lieu. And as for these whose ransome we haue set, It is our pleasure one of them depart: Therefore come you with vs, and let him go.

Exit Lieutenant, and the rest.

Manet the first Gent. Enter Walter with the body.

Wal. There let his head, and liuelesse bodie lye, Vntill the Queene his Mistris bury it.

Exit Walter

1.Gent. O barbarous and bloudy spectacle, His body will I beare vnto the King: If he reuenge it not, yet will his Friends, So will the Queene, that liuing, held him deere.

Enter Beuis, and Iohn Holland.

Beuis. Come and get thee a sword, though made of a Lath, they haue bene vp these two dayes

Hol. They haue the more neede to sleepe now then

Beuis. I tell thee, Iacke Cade the Cloathier, meanes to dresse the Common-wealth and turne it, and set a new nap vpon it

Hol. So he had need, for 'tis thred-bare. Well, I say, it was neuer merrie world in England, since Gentlemen came vp

Beuis. O miserable Age: Vertue is not regarded in Handy-crafts men

Hol. The n.o.bilitie thinke scorne to goe in Leather Ap.r.o.ns

Beuis. Nay more, the Kings Councell are no good Workemen

Hol. True: and yet it is said, Labour in thy Vocation: which is as much to say, as let the Magistrates be labouring men, and therefore should we be Magistrates