Say, he be taken, rack'd, and tortured;
I know, no pain they can inflict upon him,
Will make him say-I mov'd him to those arms.
Say, that he thrive, (as 'tis great like he will.)
Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength,
And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd:
For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart, the next for me.
Can chase away the first conceived sound?
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words
Lay not thy bands on me; forbear. I say;
Their touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting.
Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight!
Upon thy eye-balls murderous tyranny
Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world.
[Exit. Look not upon me for thine eyes are wounding:→
Yet do not go away;-Come, basilisk,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight:
For in the shade of death I shall find joy:
In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead.
SCENE II-Bury. A Room in the Palace. Enter
Certain Murderers, hastily.
1 Mur. Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know, We have despatch'd the duke as he commanded,
2 Mur. O, that it were to do!-What have we done? Didst ever hear a man so penitent?
Enter Suffolk.
1 Mur. Here comes my lord. Suf.
Despatch'd this thing?
Ay, my good lord, he's dead.
Suf. Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my
house;
I will reward you for this venturous deed.
The king and all the peers are here at hand:-
Have you laid fair the bed? are all things well,
According as I gave directions?
1 Mur. Tis, my good lord.
Suf. Away, be gone!
[Exeunt Murderers. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Cardinal Beaufort, Somerset Lords, and others.
K. Hen. Go, call our uncle to our presence straight:
Say, we intend to try his grace to-day,
If he be guilty, as 'tis published.
Suf. I'll call him presently, my noble lord. [Exit.
K. Hen. Lords, take your places ;-And, I pray you
Proceed no straighter 'gainst our uncle Gloster,
Than from true evidence, of good esteem,
He be approv'd in practice culpable.
Q. Mar. God forbid any malice should prevail,
That faultless may condemn a nobleman!
Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion!
K. Hen. I thank thee, Margaret; these words con-
tent me much.-
Q. Mar. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus?
Although the duke was enemy to him,
Yet he, most christian-like, laments his death:
And for myself,-foe as he was to me,
Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans,
Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life,
I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans,
Look pale as primrose, with blood-drinking sighs,
And all to have the noble duke alive.
What know I how the world may deem of me?
For it is known, we were but hollow friends;
It may be judg'd, I made the duke away:
So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded,
And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach.
This get I by his death: Ah me, unhappy!
To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!
K. Hen. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched man!
Q. Mar. Be woe for me, more wretched than he is
What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face?
I am no loathsome leper, look on me.
What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf?
Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen.
Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb?
Why, then dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy:
Erect his statue then, and worship it,
And make my image but an alehouse sign.
Was I, for this, nigh wreck'd upon the sea;
And twice by awkward wind from England's bank
Drove back again unto my native clime?
What boded this, but well-forewarning wind
Did seem to say.-Seek not a scorpion's nest,
Nor set no footing on this unkind shore?
What did I then, but curs'd the gentle gusts.
And he that loos'd them from their brazen caves;
And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore,
How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock?
thou?
Where is our uncle? what is the matter, Suffolk ?
Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is dead.
Q. Mar. Marry, God forefend!
Car. God's secret judgement :-I did dream to-night,
The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word.
[The King swoons.
Q. Mar. How fares my lord?-Help, lords! the king
is dead.
Som. Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.
Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help!-0, Henry, ope thine
eyes!
Suf. He doth revive again;-Madam, be patient.
K. Hen. O heavenly God!
Q. Mar.
How fares my gracious lord?
Suf. Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, com-
fort!
K. Hen. What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me?
Came he right now to sing a raven's note,
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers;
And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Yet Eolus would not be a murderer,
But left that hateful office unto thee:
The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me;
Knowing, that thou would'st have me drown'd on shore
With tears as salt as sea through the unkindness:
The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands,
And would not dash me with their ragged sides;
Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
Might in thy palace perish Margaret.
As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from the shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm:
And when the dusky sky began to rob
My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck.-
A beart it was, bound in with diamonds,-
And threw it towards thy land -the sea receiv'd it:
And so, I wish'd, thy body might my heart :
And even with this, I lost fair England's view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart;
And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles
For losing ken of Albion's wished coast.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue
(The agent of thy foul inconstancy,)
To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did,
When he to madding Dido would unfold
His father's acts commenc'd in burning Troy?
Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false like him?
Ah me, I can no more! Die, Margaret!
For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long.
Noise within. Enter Warwick and Salisbury.
Commons press to the door.
War. It is reported, mighty sovereign,
That good duke Humphrey traitorously is murder'd
By Suffolk and the cardinal Beaufort's means.
The commons, like an angry hive of bees,
That want their leader, scatter up and down,
And care not who they sting in his revenge.
Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny,
Until they hear the order of his death.
K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true;
But how he died, God knows, not Henry:
Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
And cornment then upon his sudden death.
War. That I shall do, my liege:-Stay, Salisbury,
With the rude multitude, till I return.
[Warwick goes into an inner room, and Salis-
bury retires.
K. Hen. O thou that judgest all things, stay my
thoughts;
My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul,
Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life!
If my suspect be false, forgive me, God;
For judgement only doth belong to thee!
Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips
With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain
Upon his face an ocean of salt tears;
To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk,
And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling:
But all in vain are these mean obsequies;
And, to survey his dead and earthy image,
What were it but to make my sorrow greater?
The folding Doors of an inner Chamber are thrown
open, and Gloster is discovered dead in his Bed:
Warwick and others standing by it.
War. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this
body.
K. Hen. That is to see how deep my grave is made:
For, with his soul, fled all my worldly solace;
For seeing him, I see my life in death.
War. As surely as my soul intends to live
With that dread King that took our state upon him
To free us from his Father's wrathful curse,
I do believe that violent hands were laid
Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke.
Suf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue!
What instance gives lord Warwick for his vow?
War. See, how the blood is settled in his face!
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,
Of ashy semblanee, meagre, pale, and bloodless,
Being all descended to the labouring heart;
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy;
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er returneth
To blush and beautify the cheek again.
But, see, his face is black, and full of blood;
His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd,
Staring full ghastly like a strangied man :
His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling;
His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd.
ΕΞ
Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking;
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged,
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd.
It cannot be, but he was murder'd here;
The least of all these signs were probable.
Suf. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke to
death?
Myself, and Beaufort, had him in protection;
And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers.
War. But both of you were vow'd duke Humphrey's
foes;
And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep:
"Tis like, you would not feast him like a friend;
And 'tis well seen he found an enemy.
Q. Mar. Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen
As guilty of duke Humphrey's timeless death.
War. Who finds the heifer dead, and bleeding fresh,
And sees fast by a butcher with an axe,
But will suspect, 'twas he that made the slaughter?
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest,
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?
Even so suspicious is this tragedy.
Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk; where's your
knife?
Is Beaufort term'd a kite? where are his talons?
Suf. I wear no knife, to slaughter sleeping men;
But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease,
That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart,
That slanders me with murder's crimson badge :-
Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faulty in duke Humphrey's death.
[Exeunt Cardinal, Som. and others. War. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?
Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious spirit,
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.
War. Madam, be still; with reverence may I say;
For every word, you speak in his behalf,
Is slander to your royal dignity.
Suf. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour!
If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much,
Thy mother took into her blameful bed
Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock
Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit thou art,
And never of the Nevils' noble race.
War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee,
And I should rob the deathsman of his fee.
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild,
I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech,
And say-it was thy mother that thou meant'st,
That thou thyself wast born in bastardy:
And, after all this fearful homage done,
Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell,
Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men!
Suf. Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood,
If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.
War. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence:
Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee,
And do some service to duke Humphrey's ghost.
[Exeunt Suffolk and Warwick.
K. Hen. What stronger breast-plate than a heart
untainted?
Thrice is he arin'd, that hath his quarrel just;
Aud be but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose cunsciene, with injustice is corrupted.
Q. Mar. What noise is this?
The world shall not be ransome for thy life
Re-enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their Weapons Come, Warwick, come good Warwick, go with me;
K. Hen. Why, how now, lords? your wrathful wea-
pons drawn
Here in our presence? dare you be so bold?--
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
Suf. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.
Noise of a Crowd within. Re-enter Salisbury.
Sal. Sirs, stand apart; the king shall know your
mind.-
[Speaking to those within.
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,
Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,
They will by violence tear him from your palace,
And torture him with grievous ling'ring death.
They say, by him the good duke Humphrey died;
They say, in him they fear your highness' death;
And mere instinct of love, and loyalty,-
Free from a stubborn opposite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking,-
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They say, in care of your most royal person,
That, if your highness should intend to sleep,
And charge-that no man should disturb your rest,
In pain of your dislike, or pain of death;
Yet notwithstanding such a strait edict,
Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue,
That slily glided towards your majesty,
It were but necessary, you were wak'd ;
Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal:
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, whe'r you will, or no,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is;
With whose envenomed and fatal sting,
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say, is shamefully bereft of life.
Com. [Within.] An answer from the king, my lord
of Salisbury.
I have great matters to impart to thee.
[Exeunt K. Henry, Warwick, Lords, &c. Q. Mar. Mischance, and sorrow, go along with you! Heart's discontent, and sour affliction,
Be playfellows to keep you company!
There's two of you; the devil make a third!
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!
Suf. Cease, gentle queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.
Q. Mar. Fye, coward woman, and soft-hearted
wretch!
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?
Suf. A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse
them?
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter-searching terms,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate,
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave:
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words:
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;
My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban:
And even now my burden'd heart would break,
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!
Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks!
Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings!
Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss;
And boding screech-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell-
Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment'st
thyself;
And these dread curses-like the sun 'gainst glass,
Or like an overcharged gun,-recoil,
And turn the force of them upon thyself.
Suf. You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave?
Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Suf. "Tis like, the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds, Well could I curse away a winter's night,
Could send such message to their sovereign:
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,
To show how quaint an orator you are:
But all the honour Salisbury hath won,
Is-that he was the lord ambassador,
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king.
Though standing naked on a mountain top,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow,
And think it but a minute spent in sport.
Q. Mar. O, let me entreat thee, cease! Give me
thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears;
Com. [Within.] An answer from the king, or we'll Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
K. Hen. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me,
I thank them for their tender loving care:
And had I not been 'cited so by them,
Yet did I purpose as they do entreat;
For sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means.
And therefore,-by His majesty I swear,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am,—
He shall not breathe infection in this air
But three days longer, on the pain of death.
[Exit Salisbury.
Q. Mar. O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk!
K. Hen. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Suffolk.
No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him,
Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.
Had I but said, I would have kept my word!;
But, when I swear, it is irrevocable :
If, after three days' space, thou here be'st found
On any ground that I am ruler of,
To wash away my woeful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand;
[Kisses his hand.
That thou might'st think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd,
Adventure to be banished myself:
And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go, speak not to me; even now be gone.-
O, go not yet!-Even thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee!
Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company:
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world;
And where thou art not, desolation.
I can no more :-Live thou to joy thy life;
Myself no joy in nought, but that thou liv❜st.
Enter Vaux.
Q. Mar. Whither goes Vaux so fast? what news, I
pr'ythee?
Vaux. To signify unto his majesty, That cardinal Beaufort is at point of death: For suddenly a grievous sickness took him, That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the air, Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. Sometime, he talks as if duke Humphrey's ghost Were by his side; sometime, he calls the king, And whispers to his pillow, as to him, The secrets of his overcharged soul: And I am sent to tell his majesty, That even now he cries aloud for him.
Q. Mar. Go, tell this heavy message to the king.
[Exit Vaux,
Ah me! what is this world? what news are these?
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the southern clouds contend in tears;
Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrow's ?
Now, get thee hence: The king, thou know'st, is com-
ing;
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.
Suf. If I depart from thee, I cannot live:
And in thy sight to die, what were it else,
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe,
Dying with mother's dug between its lips:
Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad,
And ery out for thee to close up mine eyes,
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth;
So should'st thou either turn my flying soul,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium.
To die by thee, were but to die in jest ;
From thee to die, were torture more than death:
O, let me stay, befall what may befall.
Q. Mar. Away! though parting be a fretful corrosive,
It is applied to a deathful wound.
To France, sweet Suffolk: Let me hear from thee;
For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe,
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.
Suf. I go.
And take my heart with thee. Suf. A jewel, lock'd into the woeful'st cask That ever did contain a thing of worth. Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we; This way fall I to death.
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain. K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, When death's approach is seen so terrible!
War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee. Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will. Died he not in his bed? where should he die? Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no?— O! torture me no more, I will confess.Alive again? then show me where he is; I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.— He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands upright, Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul !~ Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
K. Hen. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens, Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch! O, beat away the busy meddling fiend, That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, And from his bosom purge this black despair! 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 ;-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.
The Sea-shore near Dover. Fir ing heard at Sea. Then enter from a Boat, a Cap tain, a Master, a Master's Mate, Walter Whitmore, and others; with them Suffolk, and other Gentle men, prisoners.
THE gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
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
Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws
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 ransome on the sand,
Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore.-
Master, this prisoner freely give I thee ;-
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 yours. Cap. What, think you much to pay two thousand
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 Whit-
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; Thy name is-Gualtier, being rightly sounded. Whit. Gualtier, or Walter, which it is, I care not; Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name, But with our sword we wip'd away the blot; Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge, Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defae'd, And I proclaim'd a coward through the world! [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. Ay,ut these rags are no part of the duke; Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I?
Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. 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? 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, kneel'd down at the board, When I have feasted with queen Margaret? Remember it, and let it make thee crest-fallen ; 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 shail 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
Thou dar'st not for thy own.
Poole? sir Poole ? 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 lips, that kisa'd the queen, shall sweep the ground; And thou, that sm I'dst 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. over-gorg'd 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 cali us lord; and Picardy Eath 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,
By shameful murder of a guiltless king,
And lofty proud encroaching tyranny,—
Burns with revenging fire; whose hopeful colours
Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine,
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 shoot forth thunder
Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges!
Small things make base men proud: this villain here,
Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more
Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate.
Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives.
It is impossible, that I should die
By such a lowly vassal as thyself.
Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me;
I go of message from the queen to France;
I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel.
Cap. Walter,
Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.
Suf. Gelidus timor occupat artus; 'tis thee I fear.
Whit. Thou shalt have cause to fear, before I leave
thee.
What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop?
1 Gent. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him
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 how to any, Save to the God of heaven, and to my king; And sooner dance upon a bloody pole, Than stand 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,
Suf. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can,
That this my death may never be forgot!-
Great men oft die by vile bezonians:
A Roman sworder and banditto slave
Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand
Stabb'd Julius Cæsar; savage islanders,
Pompey the great; and Suffolk dies by pirates.
[Exit Suf. with Whit. and others.
Cap. And as for these whose ransome we have set,
It is our pleasure, one of them depart :-
Therefore come you with us, and let him go.
[Exeunt all but the first Gentleman.
Re-enter Whitmore, with Suffolk's body.
Whit. There let his head and lifeless body lie,
Until the queen his mistress bury it.
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 with the body. SCENE II-Blackheath. Enter George Bevis and
Geo. Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath: they have been up these two days.
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