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K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure
War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
and draw the curtain close; And let us all to meditatiou.
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.
Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
And thou that art his mate, make boot of this ;-
is thy share. i Gent. What is my ransom, 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 thousond
crowns, And bear the name and port of gentlemen! Cut both the villains' throats ;-for die you shall; The lives of those, which we have lost in fight, Cannot be counterpois’d with such a petty sum. i 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 faying 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 ransom, 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
Whit. Gualtier, or Walter, which it is, I care not;
Therefore, when mercbant-like I sell revenge,
[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, but 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, kneeld down at the board, When I have feasted with queen Margaret? Remember it, and let it make thee crest-falln; Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride: How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood, And duly waited for my couping 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. Suf. Base slave! thy words are blunt, and so art
thou. Cap. Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's
Suf. Thou dar’st not for thy own.
Cap. Poole? Sir Poole? lord ?
Troubles the silver spring where England drinks.
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.
queen to France;
fear. Whit. Thou shalt have cause to fear, before I
leave thee. What, are ye
daunted now? now will ye stoop?
Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more.
Suf. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty yecan,
[Exit Suf. with Whit. and Others.