&mast;Cap.
&mast;The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day^{8 note}

&mast;And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades
&mast;That drag the tragick melancholy night;
&mast;Who, with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings
&mast;Clip dead men's graves^{9 note}

&mlquo;The other, [Pointing to Suffolk,] Walter Whitmore, is thy share.

&mlquo;1 Gent.
&mlquo;What is my ransom, master? let me know.

&mlquo;Mast.
&mlquo;A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.

&mlquo;Mate.
&mlquo;And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.

&mast;Cap.
&mast;What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns,
&mast;And bear the name and port of gentlemen?—
&mast;Cut both the villains' throats;—for die you shall;
&mast;The lives of those which we have lost in fight,
&mast;Cannot be counterpois'd with such a petty sum^{1 note}

&mast;1 Gent.
&mast;I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.

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

&mlquo;Whit.
&mlquo;I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard,
&mlquo;And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die; [To Suf.
&mlquo;And so should these, if I might have my will.

&mast;Cap.
&mast;Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live.

&mlquo;Suf.
&mlquo;Look on my George, I am a gentleman^{2 note}

&mlquo;Whit.
&mlquo;And so am I; my name is—Walter Whitmore.
&mlquo;How now? why start'st thou? what, doth death affright?

&mlquo;Suf.
&mlquo;Thy name affrights me^{3 note}, in whose sound is death.
&mlquo;A cunning man did calculate my birth,
&mlquo;And told me—that by Water^{4 note}

&mlquo;Yet let not this make thee be bloody minded;
&mlquo;Thy name is—Gualtier, being rightly sounded.

&mlquo;Whit.
&mlquo;Gualtier, or Walter, which it is, I care not;
&mlquo;Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name^{5 note}

&mlquo;Suf.
&mlquo;Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince,
The duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

&mlquo;Whit.
&mlquo;The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags!

Suf.
Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke;
Jove sometime went disguis'd, And why not I^{6 note}
?

Cap.
But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.

&mlquo;Suf.
&mlquo;Obscure and lowly swain,^{7 note}

&mlquo;This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,
&mlquo;And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue¹y ^note

&mast;Whit.
&mast;Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain?

&mast;Cap.
&mast;First let my words stab him, as he hath me.

&mast;Suf.
&mast;Base slave! thy words are blunt, and so art thou.

&mlquo;Cap.
&mlquo;Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's side
&mlquo;Strike off his head.

Suf.
Thou dar'st not for thy own^{2 note}

Cap.
Yes, Poole.

Suf.
Poole?

Cap.
Poole? Sir Poole? lord^{3 note}

&mlquo;Ay, kennel, puddle, sink; whose filth and dirt
&mlquo;Troubles the silver spring where England drinks.
&mlquo;Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth,
&mlquo;For swallowing^{4 note} the treasure of the realm:
&mlquo;Thy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the ground;
&mlquo;And thou, that smil'dst at good duke Humphrey's death^{5 note}





,
&mlquo;Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain^{6 note},
&mast;Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again^{7 note}


:
&mast;And wedded be thou to the hags of hell,
&mast;For daring to affy^{8 note}

&mast;Unto the daughter of a worthless king,
&mast;Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem.
&mast;By devilish policy art thou grown great,
&mast;And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd
&mast;With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart.
&mast;By thee, Anjou and Maine were sold to France:
&mast;The false revolting Normans, thorough thee,
&mast;Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy
&mast;Hath slain their governors, surpriz'd our forts,
&mast;And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home.
&mast;The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,—
&mast;Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,—
&mast;As hating thee, are rising^{9 note} up in arms:
&mast;And now the house of York—thrust from the crown,
&mast;By shameful murder of a guiltless king,
&mast;And lofty proud encroaching tyranny,—
&mast;Burns with revenging fire; whose hopeful colours
&mast;Advance our half-fac'd sun^{1 note}
, striving to shine,
&mast;Under the which is writ—Invitis nubibus.
&mast;The commons here in Kent are up in arms:
&mast;And, to conclude, reproach, and beggary,
&mast;Is crept into the palace of our king,
&mast;And all by thee:—Away! convey him hence.

&mast;Suf.
&mast;O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder
&mast;Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges!

&mast;Small things make base men proud: &mlquo;this villain here,
&mlquo;Being captain of a pinnace^{2 note}

&mlquo;I go of message from the queen to France;
&mlquo;I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel.

&mlquo;Cap.
&mlquo;Walter,—

&mlquo;Whit.
&mlquo;Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.

&mast;Suf.
&mast;Penè gelidus timor occupat artus^{5 note}

&mlquo;Whit.
&mlquo;Thou shalt have cause to fear, before I leave thee.
&mlquo;What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop?

&mlquo;1 Gent.
&mlquo;My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair.

&mlquo;Suf.
&mlquo;Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough,
&mlquo;Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour.
&mlquo;Far be it, we should honour such as these
&mlquo;With humble suit: no, rather let my head
&mlquo;Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any,
&mlquo;Save to the God of heaven, and to my king;
&mlquo;And sooner dance upon a bloody pole,
&mlquo;Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom.
&mast;True nobility is exempt from fear:—
&mlquo;More can I bear, than you dare execute^{6 note}

&mlquo;Cap.
&mlquo;Hale him away, and let him talk no more.

&mlquo;Suf.
&mlquo;Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can^{7 note}

&mlquo;That this my death may never be forgot!—
&mlquo;Great men oft die by vile bezonians^{8 note}