Complete Plays, The (265 page)

King Henry VI

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!

Warwick

See, how the pangs of death do make him grin!

Salisbury

Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably.

King Henry VI

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!

Warwick

So bad a death argues a monstrous life.

King Henry VI

Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.
Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation.

Exeunt

A
CT
IV

S
CENE
I. T
HE
COAST
OF
K
ENT
.

Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a Captain, a Master, a Master’s-mate, Walter Whitmore, and others; with them Suffolk, and others, prisoners

Captain

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 ransom 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, Walter Whitmore, is thy share.

First Gentleman

What is my ransom, master? let me know.

Master

A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.

Master’s-Mate

And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.

Captain

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 counterpoised with such a petty sum!

First Gentleman

I’ll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.

Second Gentleman

And so will I and write home for it straight.

Whitmore

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.

Captain

Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live.

Suffolk

Look on my George; I am a gentleman:
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.

Whitmore

And so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore.
How now! why start’st thou? what, doth death affright?

Suffolk

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 Gaultier, being rightly sounded.

Whitmore

Gaultier or Walter, which it is, I care not:
Never yet did base dishonour blur our name,
But with our sword we wiped away the blot;
Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge,
Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defaced,
And I proclaim’d a coward through the world!

Suffolk

Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince,
The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

Whitmore

The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags!

Suffolk

Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke:
Jove sometimes went disguised, and why not I?

Captain

But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.

Suffolk

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-fall’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.

Whitmore

Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain?

Captain

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

Suffolk

Base slave, thy words are blunt and so art thou.

Captain

Convey him hence and on our longboat’s side
Strike off his head.

Suffolk

Thou darest not, for thy own.

Captain

Yes, Pole.

Suffolk

 
Pole!

Captain

 
Pool! Sir Pool! 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 smiledst 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, overgorged
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, 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-faced 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.

Suffolk

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:
I go of message from the queen to France;
I charge thee waft me safely cross the Channel.

Captain

Walter,—

Whitmore

Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.

Suffolk

Gelidus timor occupat artus it is thee I fear.

Whitmore

Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee.
What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop?

First Gentleman

My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair.

Suffolk

Suffolk’s imperial tongue is stern and rough,
Used 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 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.

Captain

Hale him away, and let him talk no more.

Suffolk

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 Caesar; savage islanders
Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates.

Exeunt Whitmore and others with Suffolk

Captain

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 all but the First Gentleman

Re-enter Whitmore with Suffolk’s body

Whitmore

There let his head and lifeless body lie,
Until the queen his mistress bury it.

Exit

First Gentleman

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

S
CENE
II. B
LACKHEATH
.

Enter George Bevis and John Holland

Bevis

Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have been up these two days.

Holland

They have the more need to sleep now, then.

Bevis

I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.

Holland

So he had need, for ’tis threadbare. Well, I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up.

Bevis

O miserable age! virtue is not regarded in handicrafts-men.

Holland

The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.

Bevis

Nay, more, the king’s council are no good workmen.

Holland

True; and yet it is said, labour in thy vocation; which is as much to say as, let the magistrates be labouring men; and therefore should we be magistrates.

Bevis

Thou hast hit it; for there’s no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.

Holland

I see them! I see them! there’s Best’s son, the tanner of Wingham,—

Bevis

He shall have the skin of our enemies, to make dog’s-leather of.

Holland

And Dick the Butcher,—

Bevis

Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity’s throat cut like a calf.

Holland

And Smith the weaver,—

Bevis

Argo, their thread of life is spun.

Holland

Come, come, let’s fall in with them.

Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the Butcher, Smith the Weaver, and a Sawyer, with infinite numbers

Cade

We John Cade, so termed of our supposed father,—

Dick

[Aside]
 
Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings.

Cade

For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes, — Command silence.

Dick

Silence!

Cade

My father was a Mortimer,—

Dick

[Aside]
 
He was an honest man, and a good bricklayer.

Cade

My mother a Plantagenet,—

Dick

[Aside]
 
I knew her well; she was a midwife.

Cade

My wife descended of the Lacies,—

Dick

[Aside]
 
She was, indeed, a pedler’s daughter, and sold many laces.

Smith

[Aside]
 
But now of late, notable to travel with her furred pack, she washes bucks here at home.

Cade

Therefore am I of an honourable house.

Dick

[Aside]
 
Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable; and there was he borne, under a hedge, for his father had never a house but the cage.

Cade

Valiant I am.

Smith

[Aside]
 
A’ must needs; for beggary is valiant.

Cade

I am able to endure much.

Dick

[Aside]
 
No question of that; for I have seen him whipped three market-days together.

Cade

I fear neither sword nor fire.

Smith

[Aside]
 
He need not fear the sword; for his coat is of proof.

Dick

[Aside]
 
But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i’ the hand for stealing of sheep.

Cade

Be brave, then; for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny: the three-hooped pot; shall have ten hoops and I will make it felony to drink small beer: all the realm shall be in common; and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass: and when I am king, as king I will be,—

All

God save your majesty!

Cade

I thank you, good people: there shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers and worship me their lord.

Dick

The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.

Cade

Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? that parchment, being scribbled o’er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings: but I say, ’tis the bee’s wax; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. How now! who’s there?