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And bear the name and port of gentlemen?
-Cut both the villains' throats,-for die you fhall,
Nor can thofe lives, which we have loft in fight,
Be counter-pois'd with fuch a petty fum.

1 Gent. I'll give it, Sir, and therefore spare my life. 2. Gent. And fo will I, and write home for it straight. Whit. I loft mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore, to revenge it, fhalt thou die;

[To Suffolk, And fo fhould thefe, if I might have my will. Cap. Be not fo rafh, take ranfom, let him live. Suf. Look on my George, I am a Gentleman; Rate me at what thou wilt, thou fhalt be paid

Whit. And fo am I; my name is Walter Whitmore. How now? why start'ft thou? what, doth death af fright?

Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whofe found is death.. A cunning man did calculate my birth,

And told me, that by Water I should die,
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded,
Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly founded.
Whit. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not [ ;
Ne'er yet did bafe Dishonour blur our name,
But with our fword, we wip'd away the blot.
Therefore, when merchant-like I fell revenge,
Broke be my fword, my arms torn and defac'd,
And I proclaim'd a Coward through the world!
Suf. Stay, Whitmore, for thy prifoner is a Prince;
The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

Whit. The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags ?
Suf. Ay, but these rags are no part of the Duke.
Jove fometimes went difguis'd, and why not I?

Look on my George.] In the firft Edition it is my ring. WARB. 7 Jove fometimes went dif guis'd, &c.] This verfe is amitted in all but the first old Edition, without which what

follows is not fenfe.
line alfo,

The next

Obfure and lowly fwain, King Henry's blood, was falfly put in the captain's mouth,



Cap. But Jove was never flain, as thou shalt be. Suf. Obfcure and lowly fwain, King Henry's blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster,

Muft not be shed by fuch a jaded groom.

Haft thou not kifs'd thy hand, and held my stirrop?
Bare-headed, plodded by my foot-cloth mule,
And thought thee happy when I fhook my head?
How often haft 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 creft-fal'n;
Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride.
How in our voiding lobby haft thou stood,
And duly waited for my coming forth?
This hand of mine hath' writ in thy behalf,
And therefore fhall it charm thy riotous tongue.
Whit. Speak, Captain, fhall I ftab the forlorn swain ?
Cap. First let my words ftab him, as he hath me,
Suf. Bafe flave, thy words are blunt; and fo art thou.
Cap. Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's fide
Strike off his head.

Suf. Thou dar'ft not for thy own.
Cap. Poole? Sir Poole? Lord? *

Ay, kennel-puddle-fink, whofe filth and dirt
Troubles the filver Spring where England drinks
Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth,
For fwallowing up the treasure of the Realm;
Thy lips, that kifs'd the Queen, shall sweep the ground,
And thou, that fmil'dft at good Duke Humphry's death,
Against the fenfelefs winds fhall grin in vain,
Who in contempt fhall hifs at thee again.
And wedded be thou to the hags of hell,

3 abortive pride.] Pride we should read with a kind of that has had birth too foon, pride iffuing before its time.

Poole? Sir Poole? Lord?] The diffonance of this broken line makes it almost certain that

ludicrous climax,

Poole Sir Poole? Lord Poole? He then plays upon the name Poole, kennel, puddle.


For daring to affie a mighty Lord
Unto the daughter of a worthless King,
Having nor Subject, Wealth, nor diadem!
By devilish policy art thou grown great,
And, like ambitious Sylla, over-gorg'd
With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart.
By thee Anjou and Maine were fold to France;
The false revolting Normans, thorough thee,
Difdain to call us Lord; and Picardie
Hath flain their Governors, furpriz'd our Forts,
And fent the ragged foldiers wounded home.
The princely Warwick, and the Nevills all,
Whofe dreadful fwords were never drawn in vain,
As hating thee, are rifing up in arms.

And now the House of York, thrust from the Crown
By shameful murder of a guiltless King,
And lofty proud incroaching tyranny,

Burns with revenging fire; whofe hopeful Colours
Advance a half-fac'd Sun ftriving to fhine;
Under the which is writ, Invitis nubibus.
The Commons here in Kent are up in arms:
And to conclude, Reproach and Beggary
Is crept into the Palace of our King,
And all by thee.-Away! convey him hence.

Suf. O, that I were a God, to fhoot forth thunder
Upon these paultry, fervile, abject drudges!
Small things make base men proud. This villain here,
Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more
Than Bargulus the ftrong Illyrian Pirate. 9

Drones fuck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives.
It is impoffible that I fhould die

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By such a lowly vaffal as thyself.

Thy words move, rage, and not remorse, in me : go of meffage from the Queen to France;


I charge thee waft me fafely cross the channel.
Cap. Walter-

Whit Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.
Suf. Gelidus timor occupat artus: it's thee I fear.
Whit. Thou fhalt have cause to fear, before I leave

What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop? 1 Gent. My gracious Lord, intreat him; fpeak him fair.

Suf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is ftern and rough, Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour. Far be it, we should honour fuch as these With humble fuit; no, rather let my head Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any, Save to the God of heav'n, and to my King And fooner dance upon a bloody pole, Than ftand uncover'd to the vulgar groom. True Nobility is exempt from fear : More can I bear, than you dare execute.

Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more; Come, foldiers, fhew what cruelty ye can.

Suf. That this my death may never be forgot!Great men oft die by vile Bezonians.

A Roman fworder and Banditto flave

Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand
Stabb'd Julius Cæfar; favage Iflanders

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Pompey the Great: And Suffolk dies by Pirates.

[Exit Walter Whitmore with Suffolk,

Cap. And as for thefe, whofe ransom we have fet, It is our pleasure one of them depart;

Therefore come you with us, and let him go.

[Exit Captain and the rest.

The poet feems to have confounded the story of Pompey with fome other.


Manet the firft Gent. Enter Whitmore with the body.

Whit. There let his head and liveless body lie, Until the Queen his mistress bury it.

[Exit Whit. 1 Gent. O barbarous and bloody fpectacle! His body will I bear unto the King; If he revenge it not, yet will his friends;

So will the Queen, that living held him dear. [Exit.



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OME, and get thee a fword though made of a lath; they have been up these two

Hol. They have the more need to fleep now then. Bevis. I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and fet a new nap upon it.

Hol. So he had need, for 'tis thread-bare. Well, I fay, it was never merry world in England fince Gentle

men came up.

Bevis. O miferable age! virtue is not regarded in handy-crafts-men.

Hol. The Nobility think fcorn to go in leather aprons. Bevis. Nay more, the King's Council are no good workmen.

Hol. True, and yet it is faid, Labour in thy vocation; which is as much as to fay, let the magiftrates be labouring men; and therefore fhould we be magiftrates. Bevis. Thou haft hit it; for there's no better fign of a brave mind than a hard hand.

Hol. I fee them, I fee them. There's Beft's fon, the Tanner of Wingham.

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