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Died he not in his bed? where should he die?
King. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
him grin! SAL. Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably. King. 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. O God, forgive him !
War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
King. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. Close
and draw the curtain close ; And let us all to meditation.
The coast of Kent.
a Captain, a Master, a Master's-Mate, WALTER
Cap. The gaudy, blabbing and remorseful day
head. MATE. And so much shall you give, or off goes
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
shall : The lives of those which we have lost in fight Be counterpoised with such a petty sum !
FIRST Gent. I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare
Sec. 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 Sur. And so should these, if I might have my
will. Cap. Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live.
Sur. 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? Sur. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is
Whit. Gaultier or Walter, which it is, I care not:
Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defaced,
Sur. Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince, The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.
Whit. The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags !
Sur. Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke: Jove sometime went disguised, and why not I?
Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.
Sur. Obscure and lowly swain, King Henry's The honourable blood of Lancaster,
[blood, Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand and held my stirrup? Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule And thought thee happy when I shook my
head ? How often hast thou waited at my cup, Fed from my trencher, kneeld 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; How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood And duly waited for my coming forth ? This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf 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. Sur. Base slave, thy words are blunt and so art
thou. CAP. Convey him hence and on our long-boat's
Strike off his head.
Thou darest not, for thy own.
Pool! Sir Pool! lord ! Ay, kennel, puddle, sink, whose filth and dirt Troubles the silver spring where England drinks. Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth For swallowing the treasure of the realm : Thy lipsthatkiss'd the queen shall sweeptheground; And thou that smiledst 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, Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. By devilish policy art thou grown great And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorged With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart. 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. The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all, Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain, As hating thee, are rising up in arms: And now the house of York, thrust from the crown