Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin. Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably. K.Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be ! -Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. He dies, and makes no sign; 6-O God, forgive him! War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. K.Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.— Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close ; And let us all to meditation.7 [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I-Kent. The Sea-shore near Dover. Firing heard at Sea. Then enter from a Boat, a Captain, a Master, a Master's-Mate, WALTER WHITMORE, and others; with them SUFFOLK, and other Gentlemen, prisoners. Captain. 8 THE gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day & Is crept into the bosom of the sea; And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings [6] When a dying person is incapable of speech, it is usual (in the church of Rome) previous to the administration of the sacraments, to obtain some sign that he is desirous of having them administered. The passage may have an allusion to this practice. C. [7] This is one of the scenes which have been applauded by the critics, and which will continue to be admired when prejudice shall cease, and bigotry give way to impartial examination. These are beauties that rise out of nature and of truth; the superficial reader cannot miss them, the profound can imagine nothing beyond them. JOHNS. [8] The epithet, blabbing, applied to the day by a man about to commit murder, is exquisitely beautiful. Guilt is afraid of light, considers darkness as a natural shelter, and makes night the confidante of those actions which cannot be trusted to the tell-tale day. JOHNS. [9] The wings of the jades that drag night appears an unnatural image, till it is remembered that the chariot of the night is supposed by Shakspeare to be drawn by dragons. JOHNS. 14 VOL. V. Therefore, bring forth the soldiers of our prize ; And thou that art his mate, make boot of this ;The other, [Pointing to SUFFOLK,] Walter Whitmore, is thy share. 1 Gent. What is my ransome, master? let me know. Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goes your's. Cap. 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 spare my life. 2 Gent. And so will I, and write home for it straight. Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die ; [To SUF. And so should these, if I might have my will. Cap. Be not so rash; take ransome, let him live. Suf. Look on my George, I am a gentleman; Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. Whit. And so am I; my name is—Walter Whitmore. How now? why start'st 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 die : Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded; Whit. Gualtier, or Walter, which it is, I care not; [Lays hold on SUFFOLK. Suf. Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince, The duke of Suffolk, William de la Poole. Whit. The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags ! Suf. Obscure and lowly swain, king Henry's blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster, Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my stirrup ? And thought thee happy when I shook my head? Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board, And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue. Whit. Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain? 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 dar'st not for thy own. Cap. Yes, Poole. Suf. Poole ? Cap. Poole sir Poole? lord? Ay, kennel, puddle, sink; whose filth and dirt Troubles the silver spring where England drinks. For swallowing the treasure of the realm: Thy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the ground; And thou, that smil'st at good duke Humphrey's death, Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain, Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again; And wedded be thou to the hags of hell, For daring to affy a mighty lord Unto the daughter of a worthless king, Hath slain their governors, surpris'd our forts, [8] Pride that has had birth too soon, pride issuing before its time. JOH And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,-- And now the house of York-thrust from the crown, Burns with revengeful fire; whose hopeful colours And all by thee Away! convey him hence. Suf. O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder Small things make base men proud: this villain here, Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives. By such a lowly vassal as thyself. Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me : I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel. Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death. thee. What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop? 1 Gent. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair. Suf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour. Far be it, we should honour such as these With humble suit : no, rather let my head Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any, Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom. [9] A pinnace did not anciently signify, as at present, a man of war's boat, but a ship of small burthen. STEEV. [1] Bargulus is to be met with in Tully's Offices; and the legend is the famous Theopompus's History : "Bargulus, Illyrius latro, de quo est apud Theopompum, magnas opes habuit," Lib. II. cap. xi. WARE. |