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0! torture me no more,
I will confess.-
K. Hen. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin.
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 ineditation.
SCENE I. KENT. The Sea-shore near DOVER. Firing heard at Seu. Then enter from a Boat, a Cap
tain, a Master, a Master's Mate, WALTER WHITMORE, and others; with them SUFFOLK, and other Gentlemen, Prisoners.
Cap. 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 Hagging 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 ransoin 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 Suff.] Walter Whitmore, is thy
1 Gent. What is my ransom, master? let me know.
1 Gent. I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.
Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die;. [To Suff. And so should these, if I might have my will.
Cap. Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live.
Suff. 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?
Suff Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death. A cunning man did calculate iny 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 dishonoor 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 defac'd, And I proclaim'd a coward through the world!
(Lays hold on Suffolk. Suff. Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince, The duke of Suffolk, William de la Poole.
Whit. The duke of Suffolk, imuffled up in rags! Suff. 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. Suff. Obscure and lowly swain, king Henry's blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster,
Must not be shed by such a jaded groom.
Whit. Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain?
Cap. Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's side
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 kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the ground; And thou, that smil'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 ihou to the bags of hell, For daring to affy a mighty lord Unto the daugliter of a worthless king, Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. By devilish policy art thou grown great, And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd With gobbels 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
Suff. Ở that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder
thee. What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop? 1 Gent. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him
fair. SuffSuffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, Us’d to command, ontaught to plead for favour. Far be it, we should honour such as these With humble snit: no, rather let my head Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any,