The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 5 of 9] · William Shakespeare
SCENE I. _The coast of Kent_.
_Alarum. Fight at Sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a_ Captain, _a_ Master, _a_ Master’s-Mate, WALTER WHITMORE, _and others; with them_ SUFFOLK, _and others, prisoners_. _Cap._ The gaudy, blabbing and remorseful day [bda001] Is crept into the bosom of the sea; And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night; Who, with their drowsy, slow and flagging wings, ·bda005· Clip dead men’s graves and from their misty jaws [bda006] Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize; For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, Here shall they make their ransom on the sand, ·bda010· Or with their blood stain this discoloured shore. [bda011] Master, this prisoner freely give I thee; And thou that art his mate, make boot of this; The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share. [bda014] _First Gent._ What is my ransom, master? let me know. ·bda015· _Mast._ A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. _Mate._ And so much shall you give, or off goes yours. [bda018] _Cap._ What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns, And bear the name and port of gentlemen? Cut both the villains’ throats; for die you shall: [bda020] The lives of those which we have lost in fight [bda021] Be counterpoised with such a petty sum! _First Gent._ I’ll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.
_Cap._ But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. _Suf._ Obscure and lowly swain, King Henry’s blood, [bda050] The honourable blood of Lancaster, [bda051] Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. [bda052] Hast thou not kiss’d thy hand and held my stirrup? Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule [bda054] And thought thee happy when I shook my head? ·bda055· How often hast thou waited at my cup, Fed from my trencher, kneel’d down at the board, When I have feasted with Queen Margaret? Remember it and let it make thee crest-fall’n, Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride; ·bda060· How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood And duly waited for my coming forth? This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf [bda063] And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue. _Whit._ Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain? [bda065] _Cap._ First let my words stab him, as he hath me. _Suf._ Base slave, thy words are blunt and so art thou. _Cap._ Convey him hence and on our long-boat’s side Strike off his head. _Suf._ Thou darest not, for thy own. [bda069] _Cap._ Yes, Pole. _Suf._ Pole!
_Cap._ Pool! Sir Pool! lord! [bda070] Ay, kennel, puddle, sink; whose filth and dirt [bda071] Troubles the silver spring where England drinks. Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth For swallowing the treasure of the realm: [bda074] Thy lips that kiss’d the queen shall sweep the ground; ·bda075· And thou that smiledst at good Duke Humphrey’s death Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain, [bda077] Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again: And wedded be thou to the hags of hell, For daring to affy a mighty lord ·bda080· Unto the daughter of a worthless king, Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. [bda082] By devilish policy art thou grown great And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorged [bda084] With gobbets of thy mother’s bleeding heart. [bda085] By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France, The false revolting Normans thorough thee Disdain to call us lord, and Picardy Hath slain their governors, surprised our forts And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. ·bda090· The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all, Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain, As hating thee, are rising up in arms: [bda093] And now the house of York, thrust from the crown By shameful murder of a guiltless king ·bda095· And lofty proud encroaching tyranny, [bda096] Burns with revenging fire; whose hopeful colours Advance our half-faced sun, striving to shine, [bda098] Under the which is writ ‘Invitis nubibus.’ The commons here in Kent are up in arms: ·bda100· And, to conclude, reproach and beggary Is crept into the palace of our king, [bda102] And all by thee. Away! convey him hence.
_Cap._ Hale him away, and let him talk no more. _Suf._ Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can, [bda132] That this my death may never be forgot! Great men oft die by vile bezonians: A Roman sworder and banditto slave [bda135] Murder’d sweet Tully; Brutus’ bastard hand [bda136] Stabb’d Julius Cæsar; savage islanders [bda137] Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates. [bda138] [_Exeunt Whitmore and others with Suffolk._ _Cap._ And as for these whose ransom we have set, It is our pleasure one of them depart: ·bda140· Therefore come you with us and let him go. [bda141] [_Exeunt all but the First Gentleman._ _Re-enter_ WHITMORE _with_ SUFFOLK’S _body_. _Whit._ There let his head and lifeless body lie, [bda142] Until the queen his mistress bury it. [_Exit._ [bda143] _First Gent._ O barbarous and bloody spectacle! His body will I bear unto the king: ·bda145· If he revenge it not, yet will his friends; So will the queen, that living held him dear. [bda147] [_Exit with the body._
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.