ACT IV. SCENE I. Kent. The Seashore near Dover1. 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 remorseful2 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 3 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 ransome on the sand, Or with their blood stain this discolour'd ShoreMaster, this prisoner freely give I thee:And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;The other [pointing to SUFFOLK], Walter Whit more, is thy share. 718 1 Gent. What is my ransome, master? let me know. 1 There is a curious circumstantial account of the event on which this scene is founded in the Paston Letters, published by Sir John Fenn, vol. i. p. 38, Letter x. The scene is founded on the narration of Hall, which is copied by Holinshed.*** 2 The epithet blabbing, applied to the day by a man about to commit murder, is exquisitely beautiful. Guilt, if afraid of light, considers darkness as a natural shelter, and makes night the confidant of those actions which cannot be trusted to the tell-tale day.-Johnson. Spenser and Milton make use of the epithet Britain's Ida, c. ii. Ere the blabbing eastern scout. — Comus, v. 138. Remorseful is pitiful. 3 The chariot of the night is supposed by Shakspeare to be drawn by dragons. Vide Cymbeline, Act ii. Sc. 2. Vol. VI. 9 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 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 * Cannot be counterpois'd with such a petty sum. 1 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 laying 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 ransome, 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 more. 'How now? why start'st thou? what, doth death affright? Suf. Thy name affrights me5, in whose sound is death. A cunning man did calculate my birth, 4 The word cannot, which is necessary to complete the sense of the passage, not in the old copy: it was supplied by Malone. The difference between the captain's present and s ceeding sentiments may be thus accounted for. Here he is only striving to intimidate his prisoners into a ready payment of their ransom. Afterwards his natural disposition inclines him to mercy, till he is provoked by the Line startled Suffolk had heard upbraidings of Suffolk. name before without being by it. In the old play, as soon as ever the captain has consigned him to Walter Whickmore, he immediately exclaims, Walter Whickmore asks him why he fears him; and Suffolk replies, It is thy name affrights me The poet here, as in other instances, has fallen into an impropriety by sometimes following and sometimes deserting his original. And told me that by Water I should die6: Yet let not this make thee be bloody minded; Thy name is-Gaultier, being rightly sounded. Whit. Gualtier, or Walter, which it is, I care bath not; Ne'er yet did base dishonour 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. Suf. Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince, The duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. 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 groom8. Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my stirrup? Bare-headed plodded by my footcloth mule, 6 Thus Drayton, in Queen Margaret's Epistle to this duke of Suffolk: I pray thee, Poole, have care how thou dost pass; And one foretold by water thou should'st die.' A note on these lines says, The witch of Eye received answer from the spirit, that the duke of Suffolk should take heed of water. See the fourth Scene of the first Act of this play The prophecy is differently stated by a contemporary in the Paston Letters, vol. i. p. 40:—Also he asked the name of the ship; and when he knew it, he remembered Stacy that said if he might escape the danger of the Tower he should be safe, and then his heart failed him.' The new image which Shakspeare has introduced into this speech my arms torn and defaced' is also found in King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2. See note on that passage. 8 A jaded groom is a low fellow. Suffolk's boast of his own blood was hardly warranted by his origin. His great grandfather had been a merchant at Hull. If Shakspeare had known his pedigree he would not have failed to make some of his adversaries reproach him with it. And thought thee happy when I shook my head? Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board, 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 longboat's Cap. Thou dar'st not for thy own. Poole? 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: 9 Pride that has had birth too soon. 10 By this expression, charm thy riotous tongue,' the poet meaut Suffolk to say that it should be as potent as a charm in stopping his licentious talk. The same expression occurs in Othello, Act iv. Sc. 1, and is of common occurrence in the books of the poet's age. Thus in Ben Jonson's Cynthia's Revels: charm your skipping tongue.' And Spenser, Faerie Queenc, b. v. c. 9: That well could charm his tongue and time his speech. |