Henry VI, Pt. 2
Act 4, Scene 1
Coast of Kent. Seashore near Dover.
- Alarum within. Ord’nance goes off like as it were a fight at
- Enter Lieutenant, a Shipmaster and his Mate, Walter
- Whitmore, and others; with them Suffolk, disguised, and
- other Gentlemen, prisoners.
Lieutenant6 - 19
- 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
- Cleep 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 ransom on the sand,
- Or with their blood stain this discolored shore.
- Master, this prisoner freely give I thee,
- And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;
- The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share.
- What is my ransom, master? Let me know.
- A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.
- And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.
Lieutenant23 - 27
- What, think you much to pay two thousand 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
- Be counterpois’d with such a petty sum!
- I’ll give it, sir, and therefore spare my life.
- And so will I, and write home for it straight.
Walter Whitmore30 - 33
- I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard,
- And therefore to revenge it shalt thou die,
- To Suffolk.
- And so should these, if I might have my will.
- Be not so rash, take ransom, let him live.
Duke of Suffolk35 - 36
- Look on my George, I am a gentleman:
- Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.
Walter Whitmore37 - 38
- And so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore.
- How now? Why starts thou? What, doth death affright?
Duke of Suffolk39 - 43
- 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.
Walter Whitmore44 - 49
- Gualtier or Walter, which it is, I care not.
- Never yet did base dishonor 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!
Duke of Suffolk50 - 51
- Stay, Whitmore, for thy prisoner is a prince,
- The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.
- The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags?
Duke of Suffolk53 - 54
- Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke;
- Jove sometime went disguis’d, and why not I?
- But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.
Duke of Suffolk56 - 70
- Obscure and lousy swain, King Henry’s blood,
- The honorable 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 crestfall’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.
- Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain?
- First let my words stab him, as he hath me.
Duke of Suffolk73
- Base slave, thy words are blunt and so art thou.
Lieutenant74 - 75
- Convey him hence, and on our longboat’s side
- Strike off his head.
Duke of Suffolk76
- Thou dar’st not, for thy own.
- Yes, Poole.
Duke of Suffolk78
Lieutenant79 - 112
- 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 shall 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, overgorg’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 call us lord, and Picardy
- Hath slain their governors, surpris’d 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 colors
- 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.
Duke of Suffolk113 - 121
- 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 beehives.
- It is impossible that I should die
- By such a lowly vassal as thyself.
- Thy words move rage and not remorse in me.
- Ay, but my deeds shall stay thy fury soon.
Duke of Suffolk123 - 124
- I go of message from the Queen to France;
- I charge thee waft me safely cross the Channel.
- Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.
Duke of Suffolk126
- Pene gelidus timor occupat artus: it is thee I fear.
Walter Whitmore127 - 128
- Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee.
- What, are ye daunted now? Now will ye stoop?
- My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair.
Duke of Suffolk130 - 139
- Suffolk’s imperial tongue is stern and rough,
- Us’d to command, untaught to plead for favor.
- Far be it we should honor such as these
- With humble suit. No, rather let my head
- Stoop to the block than these knees bow 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.
- Hale him away, and let him talk no more.
Duke of Suffolk141 - 147
- Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can,
- That this my death may never be forgot!
- Great men oft die by vild besonians:
- A Roman sworder and bandetto slave
- Murder’d sweet Tully; Brutus’ bastard hand
- Stabb’d Julius Caesar; savage islanders
- Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates.
- Exit Walter Whitmore with Suffolk.
Lieutenant149 - 151
- And as for these whose ransom we have set,
- It is our pleasure one of them depart;
- Therefore come you with us and let him go.
- Exeunt Lieutenant and the rest. Manet the First Gentleman.
- Enter Walter Whitmore with the body of Suffolk.
Walter Whitmore154 - 155
- There let his head and lifeless body lie,
- Until the Queen his mistress bury it.
- Exit Walter.
First Gentleman157 - 160
- 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.