2149Combe downe his haire; looke, looke, it stands vpright,

2150Like Lime-twigs set to catch my winged soule:

2151Giue me some drinke, and bid the Apothecarie

2152Bring the strong poyson that I bought of him.

2153King. Oh thou eternall mouer of the heauens,

2154Looke with a gentle eye vpon this Wretch,

2155Oh beate away the busie medling Fiend,

2156That layes strong siege vnto this wretches soule,

2157And from his bosome purge this blacke dispaire.

2158War. See how the pangs of death do make him grin.

2159Sal. Disturbe him not, let him passe peaceably.

2160King. Peace to his soule, if Gods good pleasure be.

2161Lord Card'nall, if thou think'st on heauens blisse,

2162Hold vp thy hand, make signall of thy hope.

2163He dies and makes no signe: Oh God forgiue him.

2164War. So bad a death, argues a monstrous life.

2165King. Forbeare to iudge, for we are sinners all.

2166Close vp his eyes, and draw the Curtaine close,

2167And let vs all to Meditation. Exeunt.

2170Lieu. The gaudy blabbing and remorsefull day,

2171Is crept into the bosome of the Sea:

2172And now loud houling Wolues arouse the Iades

2173That dragge the Tragicke melancholy night:

2174Who with their drowsie, slow, and flagging wings

2175Cleape dead-mens graues, and from their misty Iawes,

2176Breath foule contagious darknesse in the ayre:

2177Therefore bring forth the Souldiers of our prize,

2178For whilst our Pinnace Anchors in the Downes,

2179Heere shall they make their ransome on the sand,

2180Or with their blood staine this discoloured shore.

2181Maister, this Prisoner freely giue I thee,

2182And thou that art his Mate, make boote of this:

2183The other Walter Whitmore is thy share.

21841. Gent. What is my ransome Master, let me know.

2185Ma. A thousand Crownes, or else lay down your head

2186Mate. And so much shall you giue, or off goes yours.

2187Lieu. What thinke you much to pay 2000. Crownes,

2188And beare the name and port of Gentlemen?

2189Cut both the Villaines throats, for dy you shall:

2190The liues of those which we haue lost in fight,

2191Be counter-poys'd with such a pettie summe.

21921. Gent. Ile giue it sir, and therefore spare my life.

21932. Gent. And so will I, and write home for it straight.

2194Whitm. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboord,

2195And therefore to reuenge it, shalt thou dye,

2196And so should these, if I might haue my will.

2197Lieu. Be not so rash, take ransome, let him liue.

2198Suf. Looke on my George, I am a Gentleman,

2199Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be payed.

2200Whit. And so am I: my name is Walter Whitmore.

2201How now? why starts thou? What doth death affright?

2202Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death:

2203A cunning man did calculate my birth,

2204And told me that by Water I should dye:

2205Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded,

2206Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded.

2207Whit. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not,

2208Neuer yet did base dishonour blurre our name,

2209But with our sword we wip'd away the blot.

2210Therefore, when Merchant-like I sell reuenge,

2211Broke be my sword, my Armes torne and defac'd,

2212And I proclaim'd a Coward through the world.

2213Suf. Stay Whitmore, for thy Prisoner is a Prince,

2214The Duke of Suffolke, William de la Pole.

2215Whit. The Duke of Suffolke, muffled vp in ragges?

2216Suf. I, but these ragges are no part of the Duke.

2217Lieu. But Ioue was neuer slaine as thou shalt be,

2218Obscure and lowsie Swaine, King Henries blood.

2219Suf. The honourable blood of Lancaster

2220Must not be shed by such a iaded Groome:

2221Hast thou not kist thy hand, and held my stirrop?

2222Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth Mule,

2223And thought thee happy when I shooke my head.

2224How often hast thou waited at my cup,

2225Fed from my Trencher, kneel'd downe at the boord,

2226When I haue feasted with Queene Margaret?

2227Remember it, and let it make thee Crest-falne,

2228I, and alay this thy abortiue Pride:

2229How in our voyding Lobby hast thou stood,

2230And duly wayted for my comming forth?

2231This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalfe,

2232And therefore shall it charme thy riotous tongue.

2233Whit. Speak Captaine, shall I stab the forlorn Swain.

2234Lieu. First let my words stab him, as he hath me.

2235Suf. Base slaue, thy words are blunt, and so art thou.

2236Lieu. Conuey him hence, and on our long boats side,

2237Strike off his head. Suf. Thou dar'st not for thy owne.

2238Lieu. Poole, Sir Poole? Lord,

2239I kennell, puddle, sinke, whose filth and dirt

2240Troubles the siluer Spring, where England drinkes:

2241Now will I dam vp this thy yawning mouth,

2242For swallowing the Treasure of the Realme.

2243Thy lips that kist the Queene, shall sweepe the ground:

2244And thou that smil'dst at good Duke Humfries death,

2245Against the senselesse windes shall grin in vaine,

2246Who in contempt shall hisse at thee againe.

2247And wedded be thou to the Hagges of hell,

2248For daring to affye a mighty Lord

2249Vnto the daughter of a worthlesse King,

2250Hauing neyther Subiect, Wealth, nor Diadem:

2251By diuellish policy art thou growne great,

2252And like ambitious Sylla ouer-gorg'd,

2253With gobbets of thy Mother-bleeding heart.

2254By thee Aniou and Maine were sold to France.

2255The false reuolting Normans thorough thee,

2256Disdaine to call vs Lord, and Piccardie

2257Hath slaine their Gouernors, surpriz'd our Forts,

2258And sent the ragged Souldiers wounded home.

2259The Princely Warwicke, and the Neuils all,

2260Whose dreadfull swords were neuer drawne in vaine,

2261As hating thee, and rising vp in armes.

2262And now the House of Yorke thrust from the Crowne,

2263By shamefull murther of a guiltlesse King,

2264And lofty proud incroaching tyranny,

2265Burnes with reuenging fire, whose hopefull colours

2266Aduance our halfe-fac'd Sunne, striuing to shine;

2267Vnder the which is writ, Inuitis nubibus.

2268The Commons heere in Kent are vp in armes,

2269And to conclude, Reproach and Beggerie,

2270Is crept into the Pallace of our King,

2271And all by thee: away, conuey him hence.

2272Suf. O that I were a God, to shoot forth Thunder

2273Vpon these paltry, seruile, abiect Drudges:

2274Small things make base men proud. This Villaine heere,

2275Being Captaine of a Pinnace, threatens more

2276Then Bargulus the strong Illyrian Pyrate.

2277Drones sucke not Eagles blood, but rob Bee-hiues:

2278It is impossible that I should dye