That lays ftrong fiege unto this wretch's foul, Sal. Difturb him not, let him pafs peaceably. Lord Cardinal, if thou think'ft on heaven's blifs, [Exeunt. A C T IV. SCENE I. The Coaf of Kent. .f Alarum. Fight at fea. Ordnance goes off. Enter Captain, Whitmore, and other Pirates, with Suffolk and other Prifoners. i HE gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day And now loud howling wolves aroufe the jades, Who with their drowfy, flow, and flagging wings And And thou, that art his mate, make boot of this: 1 Gent. What is my ransom, mafter, let me know. Maft. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. Mate. And fo much shall you give, or off goes yours. Whit. 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 fpare my life. 2 Gent. And fo will I, and write home for it ftraight. 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 so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore. How now? why start'st thou?' what, doth death afv fright ?: [death Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whofe found is A cunning man did calculate my birth, And told me, that by Walter I fhould die : Whit. Gualtier or Walter, which it is, I care not; Suf. 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? Cap. But Jove was never flain, as thou fhalt be. Suf. Obfcure and lowly fwain, King Henry's blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster, Muft not be shed by such a jaded groom: Haft thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my ftirrop? Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board, 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 And thou, that fmil'dft at good Duke Humphry's death; And And wedded be thou to the hags of hell, Unto the daughter of a worthless King, Hath flain their Governors, furpriz'd our Forts, And now the Houfe of York (thrust from the Crown Burns with revenging fire; whofe hopeful Colours Drones fuck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives. By fuch a lowly vaffal as thyfelf. Thy words move rage, and not remorfe, in me: go of meffage from the Queen to France; I I charge thee waft me fafely crofs the channel. Cap. Walter Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death. Suf. Suf. Pana gelidus timor occupat artus: it's thee I fear. Whit. Thou shalt have caufe to fear, before I leave thee. What, are ye daunted now? now will ye ftoop? 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 thefe With humble fuit; no; rather let my head More can I bear, than you dare execute. Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more. A Roman fworder and Banditto flave Pompey the Great: And Suffolk dies by Pirates. [Exit Walter Whitmore with Suffolk. Cap. And as for thefe, whofe ranfom 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. Manet the first Gent. Enter Whitmore, with the body. Whit. There let his head and liveless body lie, Until the Queen his miftrefs bury it. [Exit Whit. 1 Gent. O barbarous and bloody spectacle ! 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. SCENE |