Page 566 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge,
Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defaced,
And I proclaimed a coward through the world.

[Laying hands on Suffolk to bear him off.]

SUFFOLK

Stay, Whitmore, for thy prisoner is a prince,
The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. [45]

WHIT MORE

The Duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags?

SUFFOLK

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

LIEUT ENANT

But Jove was never slain as thou shalt be.

SUFFOLK

Obscure and lousy swain, King Henry’s blood, [50]
The honourable blood of Lancaster,
Must not be shed by such a jaded groom.
Hast thou not kissed thy hand, and held my stirrup,
And bare-head plodded by my foot-cloth mule,
And thought thee happy when I shook my head? [55]
How often hast thou waited at my cup,
Fed from my trencher, kneeled down at the board
When I have feasted with Queen Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee crest-fall’n,
Ay, and allay thus thy abortive pride; [60]
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.

WHIT MORE

Speak, Captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain? [65]

LIEUT ENANT