Страница:
If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much,
Thy mother took into her blameful bed
Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock
Was graft with crab-tree slip, whose fruit thou art,
And never of the Nevils' noble race.
WARWICK. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee,
And I should rob the deathsman of his fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild,
I would, false murd'rous coward, on thy knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech
And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st,
That thou thyself was born in bastardy;
And, after all this fearful homage done,
Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell,
Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men.
SUFFOLK. Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood,
If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.
WARWICK. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence.
Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee,
And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost.
Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK
KING HENRY. What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted?
Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
[A noise within]
QUEEN. What noise is this?
Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their weapons drawn
KING. Why, how now, lords, your wrathful weapons drawn
Here in our presence! Dare you be so bold?
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
SUFFOLK. The trait'rous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.
Re-enter SALISBURY
SALISBURY. [To the Commons within] Sirs, stand apart, the King
shall know your mind.
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me
Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,
They will by violence tear him from your palace
And torture him with grievous ling'ring death.
They say by him the good Duke Humphrey died;
They say in him they fear your Highness' death;
And mere instinct of love and loyalty,
Free from a stubborn opposite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking,
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They say, in care of your most royal person,
That if your Highness should intend to sleep
And charge that no man should disturb your rest,
In pain of your dislike or pain of death,
Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict,
Were there a serpent seen with forked tongue
That slily glided towards your Majesty,
It were but necessary you were wak'd,
Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal.
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, whe'er you will or no,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is;
With whose envenomed and fatal sting
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say, is shamefully bereft of life.
COMMONS. [Within] An answer from the King, my Lord of Salisbury!
SUFFOLK. 'Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds,
Could send such message to their sovereign;
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,
To show how quaint an orator you are.
But all the honour Salisbury hath won
Is that he was the lord ambassador
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the King.
COMMONS. [Within] An answer from the King, or we will all break in!
KING HENRY. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me
I thank them for their tender loving care;
And had I not been cited so by them,
Yet did I purpose as they do entreat;
For sure my thoughts do hourly prophesy
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means.
And therefore by His Majesty I swear,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am,
He shall not breathe infection in this air
But three days longer, on the pain of death.
Exit SALISBURY
QUEEN. O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk!
KING HENRY. Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle Suffolk!
No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him,
Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.
Had I but said, I would have kept my word;
But when I swear, it is irrevocable.
If after three days' space thou here be'st found
On any ground that I am ruler of,
The world shall not be ransom for thy life.
Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me;
I have great matters to impart to thee.
Exeunt all but QUEEN and SUFFOLK
QUEEN. Mischance and sorrow go along with you!
Heart's discontent and sour affliction
Be playfellows to keep you company!
There's two of you; the devil make a third,
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!
SUFFOLK. Cease, gentle Queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.
QUEEN. Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch,
Has thou not spirit to curse thine enemy?
SUFFOLK. A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them?
Would curses kill as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter searching terms,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate,
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave.
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words,
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint,
Mine hair be fix'd an end, as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban;
And even now my burden'd heart would break,
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefest prospect murd'ring basilisks!
Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings!
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss,
And boding screech-owls make the consort full!
all the foul terrors in dark-seated hell-
QUEEN. Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyself;
And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass,
Or like an overcharged gun, recoil,
And turns the force of them upon thyself.
SUFFOLK. You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave?
Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curse away a winter's night,
Though standing naked on a mountain top
Where biting cold would never let grass grow,
And think it but a minute spent in sport.
QUEEN. O, let me entreat thee cease! Give me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place
To wash away my woeful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand,
That thou might'st think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee!
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee or, be well assur'd,
Adventure to be banished myself;
And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go, speak not to me; even now be gone.
O, go not yet! Even thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now, farewell; and farewell life with thee!
SUFFOLK. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,
Once by the King and three times thrice by thee,
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company;
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world;
And where thou art not, desolation.
I can no more: Live thou to joy thy life;
Myself no joy in nought but that thou liv'st.
Enter VAUX
QUEEN. Whither goes Vaux so fast? What news, I prithee?
VAUX. To signify unto his Majesty
That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death;
For suddenly a grievous sickness took him
That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the air,
Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth.
Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost
Were by his side; sometime he calls the King
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
The secrets of his overcharged soul;
And I am sent to tell his Majesty
That even now he cries aloud for him.
QUEEN. Go tell this heavy message to the King. Exit VAUX
Ay me! What is this world! What news are these!
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the southern clouds contend in tears-
Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows?
Now get thee hence: the King, thou know'st, is coming;
If thou be found by me; thou art but dead.
SUFFOLK. If I depart from thee I cannot live;
And in thy sight to die, what were it else
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe
Dying with mother's dug between its lips;
Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth;
So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium.
To die by thee were but to die in jest:
From thee to die were torture more than death.
O, let me stay, befall what may befall!
QUEEN. Away! Though parting be a fretful corrosive,
It is applied to a deathful wound.
To France, sweet Suffolk. Let me hear from thee;
For whereso'er thou art in this world's globe
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.
SUFFOLK. I go.
QUEEN. And take my heart with thee. [She kisses him]
SUFFOLK. A jewel, lock'd into the woefull'st cask
That ever did contain a thing of worth.
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we:
This way fall I to death.
QUEEN. This way for me. Exeunt severally
SCENE III.
London. CARDINAL BEAUFORT'S bedchamber
Enter the KING, SALISBURY, and WARWICK, to the CARDINAL in bed
KING HENRY. How fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.
CARDINAL. If thou be'st Death I'll give thee England's treasure,
Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain.
KING HENRY. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life
Where death's approach is seen so terrible!
WARWICK. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.
CARDINAL. Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Died he not in his bed? Where should he die?
Can I make men live, whe'er they will or no?
O, torture me no more! I will confess.
Alive again? Then show me where he is;
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.
Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul!
Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
KING HENRY. 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. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!
Lord Card'nal, 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. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation. Exeunt
ACT IV. SCENE I.
The coast of Kent
Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a LIEUTENANT,
a SHIPMASTER and his MATE, and WALTER WHITMORE, with sailors;
SUFFOLK and other GENTLEMEN, as prisoners
LIEUTENANT. 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 discoloured 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.
MATE. And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.
LIEUTENANT. 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!
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,
[To SUFFOLK] And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die;
And so should these, if I might have my will.
LIEUTENANT. 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 Gualtier, being rightly sounded.
WHITMORE. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not:
Never 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.
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 sometime went disguis'd, and why not I?
LIEUTENANT. 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,
Bareheaded 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 thus 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?
LIEUTENANT. First let my words stab him, as he hath me.
SUFFOLK. Base slave, thy words are blunt, and so art thou.
LIEUTENANT. Convey him hence, and on our longboat's side
Strike off his head.
SUFFOLK. Thou dar'st not, for thy own.
LIEUTENANT. Poole!
SUFFOLK. Poole?
LIEUTENANT. 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 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 colours
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.
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.
LIEUTENANT. 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 stem and rough,
Us'd 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.
LIEUTENANT. 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.
Exit WALTER with SUFFOLK
LIEUTENANT. 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
SCENE II.
Blackheath
Enter GEORGE BEVIS and JOHN HOLLAND
GEORGE. Come and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have
been up these two days.
JOHN. They have the more need to sleep now, then.
GEORGE. I tell thee Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the
commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.
JOHN. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, I say it was never
merry world in England since gentlemen came up.
GEORGE. O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen.
JOHN. The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.
GEORGE. Nay, more, the King's Council are no good workmen.
JOHN. 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.
GEORGE. Thou hast hit it; for there's no better sign of a brave
mind than a hard hand.
JOHN. I see them! I see them! There's Best's son, the tanner of
Wingham-
GEORGE. He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's
leather of.
JOHN. And Dick the butcher-
GEORGE. Then is sin struck down, like an ox, and iniquity's throat
cut like a calf.
JOHN. And Smith the weaver-
GEORGE. Argo, their thread of life is spun.
JOHN. 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 term'd 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 pedlar's daughter, and sold many
laces.
SMITH. [Aside] But now of late, not able to travel with her furr'd
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 born, 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 whipt 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' th' 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-hoop'd 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 scribbl'd 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?
Enter some, bringing in the CLERK OF CHATHAM
SMITH. The clerk of Chatham. He can write and read and cast
accompt.
CADE. O monstrous!
SMITH. We took him setting of boys' copies.
CADE. Here's a villain!
SMITH. Has a book in his pocket with red letters in't.
CADE. Nay, then he is a conjurer.
DICK. Nay, he can make obligations and write court-hand.
CADE. I am sorry for't; the man is a proper man, of mine honour;
unless I find him guilty, he shall not die. Come hither, sirrah,
I must examine thee. What is thy name?
CLERK. Emmanuel.
DICK. They use to write it on the top of letters; 'twill go hard
with you.
CADE. Let me alone. Dost thou use to write thy name, or hast thou a
mark to thyself, like a honest plain-dealing man?
CLERK. Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up that I can
write my name.
ALL. He hath confess'd. Away with him! He's a villain and a
traitor.
CADE. Away with him, I say! Hang him with his pen and inkhorn about
his neck. Exit one with the CLERK
Enter MICHAEL
MICHAEL. Where's our General?
CADE. Here I am, thou particular fellow.
MICHAEL. Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are
hard by, with the King's forces.
CADE. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down. He shall be
encount'red with a man as good as himself. He is but a knight,
is 'a?
MICHAEL. No.
CADE. To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently.
[Kneels] Rise up, Sir John Mortimer. [Rises] Now have at him!
Enter SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD and WILLIAM
his brother, with drum and soldiers
STAFFORD. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent,
Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down;
Home to your cottages, forsake this groom;
The King is merciful if you revolt.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to blood,
If you go forward; therefore yield or die.
CADE. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not;
It is to you, good people, that I speak,
O'er whom, in time to come, I hope to reign;
For I am rightful heir unto the crown.
STAFFORD. Villain, thy father was a plasterer;
And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not?
CADE. And Adam was a gardener.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. And what of that?
CADE. Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March,
Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter, did he not?
STAFFORD. Ay, sir.
CADE. By her he had two children at one birth.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. That's false.
CADE. Ay, there's the question; but I say 'tis true.
The elder of them being put to nurse,
Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away,
And, ignorant of his birth and parentage,
Became a bricklayer when he came to age.
His son am I; deny it if you can.
DICK. Nay, 'tis too true; therefore he shall be king.
SMITH. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks
are alive at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not.
STAFFORD. And will you credit this base drudge's words
That speaks he knows not what?
ALL. Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this.
CADE. [Aside] He lies, for I invented it myself- Go to, sirrah,
tell the King from me that for his father's sake, Henry the
Fifth, in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns,
I am content he shall reign; but I'll be Protector over him.
DICK. And furthermore, we'll have the Lord Say's head for selling
the dukedom of Maine.
CADE. And good reason; for thereby is England main'd and fain to go
with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I
tell you that that Lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth and made
it an eunuch; and more than that, he can speak French, and
therefore he is a traitor.
STAFFORD. O gross and miserable ignorance!
CADE. Nay, answer if you can; the Frenchmen are our enemies. Go to,
then, I ask but this: can he that speaks with the tongue of an
enemy be a good counsellor, or no?
ALL. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail,
Assail them with the army of the King.
STAFFORD. Herald, away; and throughout every town
Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade;
That those which fly before the battle ends
May, even in their wives'and children's sight,
Be hang'd up for example at their doors.
And you that be the King's friends, follow me.
Exeunt the TWO STAFFORDS and soldiers
CADE. And you that love the commons follow me.
Now show yourselves men; 'tis for liberty.
We will not leave one lord, one gentleman;
Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon,
For they are thrifty honest men and such
As would- but that they dare not- take our parts.
DICK. They are all in order, and march toward us.
CADE. But then are we in order when we are most out of order. Come,
march forward. Exeunt
SCENE III.
Another part of Blackheath
Alarums to the fight, wherein both the STAFFORDS are slain.
Enter CADE and the rest
CADE. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford?
DICK. Here, sir.
CADE. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behavedst
thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter-house;
therefore thus will I reward thee- the Lent shall be as long
again as it is, and thou shalt have a licence to kill for a
hundred lacking one.
DICK. I desire no more.
CADE. And, to speak truth, thou deserv'st no less. [Putting on SIR
HUMPHREY'S brigandine] This monument of the victory will I bear,
and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels till I do come
to London, where we will have the mayor's sword borne before us.
DICK. If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the gaols and
let out the prisoners.
CADE. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's march towards
London. Exeunt
SCENE IV.
London. The palace
Enter the KING with a supplication, and the QUEEN with SUFFOLK'S head;
the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, and the LORD SAY
QUEEN. Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind
And makes it fearful and degenerate;
Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.
But who can cease to weep, and look on this?
Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast;
But where's the body that I should embrace?
BUCKINGHAM. What answer makes your Grace to the rebels'
supplication?
KING HENRY. I'll send some holy bishop to entreat;
For God forbid so many simple souls
Should perish by the sword! And I myself,
Rather than bloody war shall cut them short,
Will parley with Jack Cade their general.
But stay, I'll read it over once again.
QUEEN. Ah, barbarous villains! Hath this lovely face
Rul'd like a wandering planet over me,
And could it not enforce them to relent
That were unworthy to behold the same?
KING HENRY. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.
SAY. Ay, but I hope your Highness shall have his.
KING HENRY. How now, madam!
Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death?
I fear me, love, if that I had been dead,
Thou wouldst not have mourn'd so much for me.
QUEEN. No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee.
Enter A MESSENGER
KING HENRY. How now! What news? Why com'st thou in such haste?
MESSENGER. The rebels are in Southwark; fly, my lord!
Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer,
Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house,
And calls your Grace usurper, openly,
And vows to crown himself in Westminster.
His army is a ragged multitude
Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless;
Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death
Hath given them heart and courage to proceed.
All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen,
They call false caterpillars and intend their death.
KING HENRY. O graceless men! they know not what they do.
BUCKINGHAM. My gracious lord, retire to Killingworth
Until a power be rais'd to put them down.
QUEEN. Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive,
These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd!
KING HENRY. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee;
Therefore away with us to Killingworth.
SAY. So might your Grace's person be in danger.
The sight of me is odious in their eyes;
And therefore in this city will I stay
And live alone as secret as I may.
Enter another MESSENGER
SECOND MESSENGER. Jack Cade hath gotten London Bridge.
The citizens fly and forsake their houses;
The rascal people, thirsting after prey,
Join with the traitor; and they jointly swear
To spoil the city and your royal court.
BUCKINGHAM. Then linger not, my lord; away, take horse.
KING HENRY. Come Margaret; God, our hope, will succour us.
QUEEN. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceas'd.
KING HENRY. [To LORD SAY] Farewell, my lord, trust not the Kentish
rebels.
BUCKINGHAM. Trust nobody, for fear you be betray'd.
SAY. The trust I have is in mine innocence,
And therefore am I bold and resolute. Exeunt
SCENE V.
London. The Tower
Enter LORD SCALES Upon the Tower, walking. Then enter two or three CITIZENS,
below
SCALES. How now! Is Jack Cade slain?
FIRST CITIZEN. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they have
won the bridge, killing all those that withstand them.
The Lord Mayor craves aid of your honour from the
Tower, to defend the city from the rebels.
SCALES. Such aid as I can spare you shall command,
But I am troubled here with them myself;
The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower.
But get you to Smithfield, and gather head,
And thither I will send you Matthew Goffe;
Fight for your King, your country, and your lives;
And so, farewell, for I must hence again. Exeunt
SCENE VI.
London. Cannon street
Enter JACK CADE and the rest, and strikes his staff on London Stone
CADE. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here, sitting upon
London Stone, I charge and command that, of the city's cost, the
pissing conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of
our reign. And now henceforward it shall be treason for any that
calls me other than Lord Mortimer.
Enter a SOLDIER, running
SOLDIER. Jack Cade! Jack Cade!
CADE. Knock him down there. [They kill him]
SMITH. If this fellow be wise, he'll never call ye Jack Cade more;
I think he hath a very fair warning.
DICK. My lord, there's an army gathered together in Smithfield.
CADE. Come then, let's go fight with them. But first go and set
London Bridge on fire; and, if you can, burn down the Tower too.
Come, let's away. Exeunt
SCENE VII.
London. Smithfield
Alarums. MATTHEW GOFFE is slain, and all the rest. Then enter JACK CADE,
with his company
CADE. So, sirs. Now go some and pull down the Savoy; others to th'
Inns of Court; down with them all.
DICK. I have a suit unto your lordship.
CADE. Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word.
DICK. Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth.
JOHN. [Aside] Mass, 'twill be sore law then; for he was thrust in
the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole yet.
SMITH. [Aside] Nay, John, it will be stinking law; for his breath
stinks with eating toasted cheese.
CADE. I have thought upon it; it shall be so. Away, burn all the
records of the realm. My mouth shall be the Parliament of
England.
JOHN. [Aside] Then we are like to have biting statutes, unless his
teeth be pull'd out.
CADE. And henceforward all things shall be in common.
Enter a MESSENGER
MESSENGER. My lord, a prize, a prize! Here's the Lord Say, which
sold the towns in France; he that made us pay one and twenty
fifteens, and one shining to the pound, the last subsidy.
Enter GEORGE BEVIS, with the LORD SAY
CADE. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. Ah, thou say,
thou serge, nay, thou buckram lord! Now art thou within point
blank of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer to my
Majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu the
Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these presence, even
the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must
sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most
traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a
grammar school; and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other
books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to
be us'd, and, contrary to the King, his crown, and dignity, thou
hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face that thou
hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb, and
such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear.
Thou hast appointed justices of peace, to call poor men before
them about matters they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou
hast put them in prison, and because they could not read, thou
hast hang'd them, when, indeed, only for that cause they have
been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost
thou not?
SAY. What of that?
CADE. Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when
honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets.
DICK. And work in their shirt too, as myself, for example, that am
a butcher.
SAY. You men of Kent-
DICK. What say you of Kent?
SAY. Nothing but this: 'tis 'bona terra, mala gens.'
CADE. Away with him, away with him! He speaks Latin.
SAY. Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will.
Kent, in the Commentaries Caesar writ,
Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle.
Sweet is the country, because full of riches;
The people liberal valiant, active, wealthy;
Which makes me hope you are not void of pity.
I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy;
Yet, to recover them, would lose my life.
Justice with favour have I always done;
Pray'rs and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never.
When have I aught exacted at your hands,
But to maintain the King, the realm, and you?
Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks,
Because my book preferr'd me to the King,
And seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven,
Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits
You cannot but forbear to murder me.
This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings
For your behoof.
CADE. Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field?
SAY. Great men have reaching hands. Oft have I struck
Those that I never saw, and struck them dead.
GEORGE. O monstrous coward! What, to come behind folks?
SAY. These cheeks are pale for watching for your good.
CADE. Give him a box o' th' ear, and that will make 'em red again.
SAY. Long sitting to determine poor men's causes
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases.
CADE. Ye shall have a hempen caudle then, and the help of hatchet.
DICK. Why dost thou quiver, man?
SAY. The palsy, and not fear, provokes me.
CADE. Nay, he nods at us, as who should say 'I'll be even with
you'; I'll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole, or no.
Take him away, and behead him.
SAY. Tell me: wherein have I offended most?
Have I affected wealth or honour? Speak.
Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold?
Is my apparel sumptuous to behold?
Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek my death?
These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding,
This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts.
O, let me live!
CADE. [Aside] I feel remorse in myself with his words; but I'll
bridle it. He shall die, an it be but for pleading so well for
his life.- Away with him! He has a familiar under his tongue; he
speaks not o' God's name. Go, take him away, I say, and strike
off his head presently, and then break into his son-in-law's
house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them
both upon two poles hither.
ALL. It shall be done.
SAY. Ah, countrymen! if when you make your pray'rs,
God should be so obdurate as yourselves,
How would it fare with your departed souls?
And therefore yet relent and save my life.
CADE. Away with him, and do as I command ye. [Exeunt some with
LORD SAY] The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head
on his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute; there shall not a
maid be married, but she shall pay to me her maidenhead ere they
have it. Men shall hold of me in capite; and we charge and
command that their wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue
can tell.
DICK. My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside, and take up
commodities upon our bills?
CADE. Marry, presently.
ALL. O, brave!
Re-enter one with the heads
CADE. But is not this braver? Let them kiss one another, for they
lov'd well when they were alive. Now part them again, lest they
consult about the giving up of some more towns in France.
Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night; for with these
borne before us instead of maces will we ride through the
streets, and at every corner have them kiss. Away! Exeunt
SCENE VIII.
Southwark
Alarum and retreat. Enter again CADE and all his rabblement
CADE. Up Fish Street! down Saint Magnus' Corner! Kill and knock
down! Throw them into Thames! [Sound a parley]
What noise is this I hear? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat
or parley when I command them kill?
Enter BUCKINGHAM and old CLIFFORD, attended
BUCKINGHAM. Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee.
And therefore yet relent, and save my life.
Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the King
Unto the commons whom thou hast misled;
And here pronounce free pardon to them all
That will forsake thee and go home in peace.
CLIFFORD. What say ye, countrymen? Will ye relent
And yield to mercy whilst 'tis offer'd you,
Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths?
Who loves the King, and will embrace his pardon,
Fling up his cap and say 'God save his Majesty!'
Who hateth him and honours not his father,
Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake,
Shake he his weapon at us and pass by.
ALL. God save the King! God save the King!
CADE. What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye so brave?
And you, base peasants, do ye believe him? Will you needs be
hang'd with your about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke
through London gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart
in Southwark? I thought ye would never have given out these arms
till you had recovered your ancient freedom. But you are all
recreants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the
nobility. Let them break your backs with burdens, take your
houses over your heads, ravish your wives and daughters before
your faces. For me, I will make shift for one; and so God's curse
light upon you all!
ALL. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade!
CLIFFORD. Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth,
That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him?
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes?
Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to;
Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil,
Unless by robbing of your friends and us.
Were't not a shame that whilst you live at jar
The fearful French, whom you late vanquished,
Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you?
Methinks already in this civil broil
I see them lording it in London streets,
Crying 'Villiago!' unto all they meet.
Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry
Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy.
To France, to France, and get what you have lost;
Spare England, for it is your native coast.
Henry hath money; you are strong and manly.
God on our side, doubt not of victory.
ALL. A Clifford! a Clifford! We'll follow the King and Clifford.
CADE. Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this
multitude? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to an hundred
mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. I see them lay their
heads together to surprise me. My sword make way for me for here
is no staying. In despite of the devils and hell, have through
the very middest of you! and heavens and honour be witness that
no want of resolution in me, but only my followers' base and
ignominious treasons, makes me betake me to my heels.
Exit
BUCKINGHAM. What, is he fled? Go some, and follow him;
And he that brings his head unto the King
Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward.
Exeunt some of them
Follow me, soldiers; we'll devise a mean
To reconcile you all unto the King. Exeunt
SCENE IX.
Killing, worth Castle
Sound trumpets. Enter KING, QUEEN, and SOMERSET, on the terrace
KING HENRY. Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne
And could command no more content than I?
No sooner was I crept out of my cradle
But I was made a king, at nine months old.
Was never subject long'd to be a King
As I do long and wish to be a subject.
Enter BUCKINGHAM and old CLIFFORD
BUCKINGHAM. Health and glad tidings to your Majesty!
KING HENRY. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surpris'd?
Or is he but retir'd to make him strong?
Enter, below, multitudes, with halters about their necks
CLIFFORD. He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield,
And humbly thus, with halters on their necks,
Expect your Highness' doom of life or death.
KING HENRY. Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates,
To entertain my vows of thanks and praise!
Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives,
And show'd how well you love your Prince and country.
Continue still in this so good a mind,
And Henry, though he be infortunate,
Assure yourselves, will never be unkind.
Thy mother took into her blameful bed
Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock
Was graft with crab-tree slip, whose fruit thou art,
And never of the Nevils' noble race.
WARWICK. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee,
And I should rob the deathsman of his fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild,
I would, false murd'rous coward, on thy knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech
And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st,
That thou thyself was born in bastardy;
And, after all this fearful homage done,
Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell,
Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men.
SUFFOLK. Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood,
If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.
WARWICK. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence.
Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee,
And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost.
Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK
KING HENRY. What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted?
Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
[A noise within]
QUEEN. What noise is this?
Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their weapons drawn
KING. Why, how now, lords, your wrathful weapons drawn
Here in our presence! Dare you be so bold?
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
SUFFOLK. The trait'rous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.
Re-enter SALISBURY
SALISBURY. [To the Commons within] Sirs, stand apart, the King
shall know your mind.
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me
Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,
They will by violence tear him from your palace
And torture him with grievous ling'ring death.
They say by him the good Duke Humphrey died;
They say in him they fear your Highness' death;
And mere instinct of love and loyalty,
Free from a stubborn opposite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking,
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They say, in care of your most royal person,
That if your Highness should intend to sleep
And charge that no man should disturb your rest,
In pain of your dislike or pain of death,
Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict,
Were there a serpent seen with forked tongue
That slily glided towards your Majesty,
It were but necessary you were wak'd,
Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal.
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, whe'er you will or no,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is;
With whose envenomed and fatal sting
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say, is shamefully bereft of life.
COMMONS. [Within] An answer from the King, my Lord of Salisbury!
SUFFOLK. 'Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds,
Could send such message to their sovereign;
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,
To show how quaint an orator you are.
But all the honour Salisbury hath won
Is that he was the lord ambassador
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the King.
COMMONS. [Within] An answer from the King, or we will all break in!
KING HENRY. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me
I thank them for their tender loving care;
And had I not been cited so by them,
Yet did I purpose as they do entreat;
For sure my thoughts do hourly prophesy
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means.
And therefore by His Majesty I swear,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am,
He shall not breathe infection in this air
But three days longer, on the pain of death.
Exit SALISBURY
QUEEN. O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk!
KING HENRY. Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle Suffolk!
No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him,
Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.
Had I but said, I would have kept my word;
But when I swear, it is irrevocable.
If after three days' space thou here be'st found
On any ground that I am ruler of,
The world shall not be ransom for thy life.
Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me;
I have great matters to impart to thee.
Exeunt all but QUEEN and SUFFOLK
QUEEN. Mischance and sorrow go along with you!
Heart's discontent and sour affliction
Be playfellows to keep you company!
There's two of you; the devil make a third,
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!
SUFFOLK. Cease, gentle Queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.
QUEEN. Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch,
Has thou not spirit to curse thine enemy?
SUFFOLK. A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them?
Would curses kill as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter searching terms,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate,
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave.
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words,
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint,
Mine hair be fix'd an end, as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban;
And even now my burden'd heart would break,
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefest prospect murd'ring basilisks!
Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings!
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss,
And boding screech-owls make the consort full!
all the foul terrors in dark-seated hell-
QUEEN. Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyself;
And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass,
Or like an overcharged gun, recoil,
And turns the force of them upon thyself.
SUFFOLK. You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave?
Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curse away a winter's night,
Though standing naked on a mountain top
Where biting cold would never let grass grow,
And think it but a minute spent in sport.
QUEEN. O, let me entreat thee cease! Give me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place
To wash away my woeful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand,
That thou might'st think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee!
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee or, be well assur'd,
Adventure to be banished myself;
And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go, speak not to me; even now be gone.
O, go not yet! Even thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now, farewell; and farewell life with thee!
SUFFOLK. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,
Once by the King and three times thrice by thee,
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company;
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world;
And where thou art not, desolation.
I can no more: Live thou to joy thy life;
Myself no joy in nought but that thou liv'st.
Enter VAUX
QUEEN. Whither goes Vaux so fast? What news, I prithee?
VAUX. To signify unto his Majesty
That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death;
For suddenly a grievous sickness took him
That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the air,
Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth.
Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost
Were by his side; sometime he calls the King
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
The secrets of his overcharged soul;
And I am sent to tell his Majesty
That even now he cries aloud for him.
QUEEN. Go tell this heavy message to the King. Exit VAUX
Ay me! What is this world! What news are these!
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the southern clouds contend in tears-
Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows?
Now get thee hence: the King, thou know'st, is coming;
If thou be found by me; thou art but dead.
SUFFOLK. If I depart from thee I cannot live;
And in thy sight to die, what were it else
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe
Dying with mother's dug between its lips;
Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth;
So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium.
To die by thee were but to die in jest:
From thee to die were torture more than death.
O, let me stay, befall what may befall!
QUEEN. Away! Though parting be a fretful corrosive,
It is applied to a deathful wound.
To France, sweet Suffolk. Let me hear from thee;
For whereso'er thou art in this world's globe
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.
SUFFOLK. I go.
QUEEN. And take my heart with thee. [She kisses him]
SUFFOLK. A jewel, lock'd into the woefull'st cask
That ever did contain a thing of worth.
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we:
This way fall I to death.
QUEEN. This way for me. Exeunt severally
SCENE III.
London. CARDINAL BEAUFORT'S bedchamber
Enter the KING, SALISBURY, and WARWICK, to the CARDINAL in bed
KING HENRY. How fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.
CARDINAL. If thou be'st Death I'll give thee England's treasure,
Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain.
KING HENRY. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life
Where death's approach is seen so terrible!
WARWICK. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.
CARDINAL. Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Died he not in his bed? Where should he die?
Can I make men live, whe'er they will or no?
O, torture me no more! I will confess.
Alive again? Then show me where he is;
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.
Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul!
Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
KING HENRY. 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. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!
Lord Card'nal, 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. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation. Exeunt
ACT IV. SCENE I.
The coast of Kent
Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a LIEUTENANT,
a SHIPMASTER and his MATE, and WALTER WHITMORE, with sailors;
SUFFOLK and other GENTLEMEN, as prisoners
LIEUTENANT. 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 discoloured 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.
MATE. And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.
LIEUTENANT. 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!
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,
[To SUFFOLK] And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die;
And so should these, if I might have my will.
LIEUTENANT. 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 Gualtier, being rightly sounded.
WHITMORE. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not:
Never 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.
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 sometime went disguis'd, and why not I?
LIEUTENANT. 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,
Bareheaded 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 thus 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?
LIEUTENANT. First let my words stab him, as he hath me.
SUFFOLK. Base slave, thy words are blunt, and so art thou.
LIEUTENANT. Convey him hence, and on our longboat's side
Strike off his head.
SUFFOLK. Thou dar'st not, for thy own.
LIEUTENANT. Poole!
SUFFOLK. Poole?
LIEUTENANT. 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 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 colours
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.
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.
LIEUTENANT. 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 stem and rough,
Us'd 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.
LIEUTENANT. 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.
Exit WALTER with SUFFOLK
LIEUTENANT. 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
SCENE II.
Blackheath
Enter GEORGE BEVIS and JOHN HOLLAND
GEORGE. Come and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have
been up these two days.
JOHN. They have the more need to sleep now, then.
GEORGE. I tell thee Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the
commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.
JOHN. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, I say it was never
merry world in England since gentlemen came up.
GEORGE. O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen.
JOHN. The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.
GEORGE. Nay, more, the King's Council are no good workmen.
JOHN. 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.
GEORGE. Thou hast hit it; for there's no better sign of a brave
mind than a hard hand.
JOHN. I see them! I see them! There's Best's son, the tanner of
Wingham-
GEORGE. He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's
leather of.
JOHN. And Dick the butcher-
GEORGE. Then is sin struck down, like an ox, and iniquity's throat
cut like a calf.
JOHN. And Smith the weaver-
GEORGE. Argo, their thread of life is spun.
JOHN. 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 term'd 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 pedlar's daughter, and sold many
laces.
SMITH. [Aside] But now of late, not able to travel with her furr'd
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 born, 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 whipt 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' th' 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-hoop'd 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 scribbl'd 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?
Enter some, bringing in the CLERK OF CHATHAM
SMITH. The clerk of Chatham. He can write and read and cast
accompt.
CADE. O monstrous!
SMITH. We took him setting of boys' copies.
CADE. Here's a villain!
SMITH. Has a book in his pocket with red letters in't.
CADE. Nay, then he is a conjurer.
DICK. Nay, he can make obligations and write court-hand.
CADE. I am sorry for't; the man is a proper man, of mine honour;
unless I find him guilty, he shall not die. Come hither, sirrah,
I must examine thee. What is thy name?
CLERK. Emmanuel.
DICK. They use to write it on the top of letters; 'twill go hard
with you.
CADE. Let me alone. Dost thou use to write thy name, or hast thou a
mark to thyself, like a honest plain-dealing man?
CLERK. Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up that I can
write my name.
ALL. He hath confess'd. Away with him! He's a villain and a
traitor.
CADE. Away with him, I say! Hang him with his pen and inkhorn about
his neck. Exit one with the CLERK
Enter MICHAEL
MICHAEL. Where's our General?
CADE. Here I am, thou particular fellow.
MICHAEL. Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are
hard by, with the King's forces.
CADE. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down. He shall be
encount'red with a man as good as himself. He is but a knight,
is 'a?
MICHAEL. No.
CADE. To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently.
[Kneels] Rise up, Sir John Mortimer. [Rises] Now have at him!
Enter SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD and WILLIAM
his brother, with drum and soldiers
STAFFORD. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent,
Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down;
Home to your cottages, forsake this groom;
The King is merciful if you revolt.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to blood,
If you go forward; therefore yield or die.
CADE. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not;
It is to you, good people, that I speak,
O'er whom, in time to come, I hope to reign;
For I am rightful heir unto the crown.
STAFFORD. Villain, thy father was a plasterer;
And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not?
CADE. And Adam was a gardener.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. And what of that?
CADE. Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March,
Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter, did he not?
STAFFORD. Ay, sir.
CADE. By her he had two children at one birth.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. That's false.
CADE. Ay, there's the question; but I say 'tis true.
The elder of them being put to nurse,
Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away,
And, ignorant of his birth and parentage,
Became a bricklayer when he came to age.
His son am I; deny it if you can.
DICK. Nay, 'tis too true; therefore he shall be king.
SMITH. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks
are alive at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not.
STAFFORD. And will you credit this base drudge's words
That speaks he knows not what?
ALL. Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this.
CADE. [Aside] He lies, for I invented it myself- Go to, sirrah,
tell the King from me that for his father's sake, Henry the
Fifth, in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns,
I am content he shall reign; but I'll be Protector over him.
DICK. And furthermore, we'll have the Lord Say's head for selling
the dukedom of Maine.
CADE. And good reason; for thereby is England main'd and fain to go
with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I
tell you that that Lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth and made
it an eunuch; and more than that, he can speak French, and
therefore he is a traitor.
STAFFORD. O gross and miserable ignorance!
CADE. Nay, answer if you can; the Frenchmen are our enemies. Go to,
then, I ask but this: can he that speaks with the tongue of an
enemy be a good counsellor, or no?
ALL. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail,
Assail them with the army of the King.
STAFFORD. Herald, away; and throughout every town
Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade;
That those which fly before the battle ends
May, even in their wives'and children's sight,
Be hang'd up for example at their doors.
And you that be the King's friends, follow me.
Exeunt the TWO STAFFORDS and soldiers
CADE. And you that love the commons follow me.
Now show yourselves men; 'tis for liberty.
We will not leave one lord, one gentleman;
Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon,
For they are thrifty honest men and such
As would- but that they dare not- take our parts.
DICK. They are all in order, and march toward us.
CADE. But then are we in order when we are most out of order. Come,
march forward. Exeunt
SCENE III.
Another part of Blackheath
Alarums to the fight, wherein both the STAFFORDS are slain.
Enter CADE and the rest
CADE. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford?
DICK. Here, sir.
CADE. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behavedst
thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter-house;
therefore thus will I reward thee- the Lent shall be as long
again as it is, and thou shalt have a licence to kill for a
hundred lacking one.
DICK. I desire no more.
CADE. And, to speak truth, thou deserv'st no less. [Putting on SIR
HUMPHREY'S brigandine] This monument of the victory will I bear,
and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels till I do come
to London, where we will have the mayor's sword borne before us.
DICK. If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the gaols and
let out the prisoners.
CADE. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's march towards
London. Exeunt
SCENE IV.
London. The palace
Enter the KING with a supplication, and the QUEEN with SUFFOLK'S head;
the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, and the LORD SAY
QUEEN. Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind
And makes it fearful and degenerate;
Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.
But who can cease to weep, and look on this?
Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast;
But where's the body that I should embrace?
BUCKINGHAM. What answer makes your Grace to the rebels'
supplication?
KING HENRY. I'll send some holy bishop to entreat;
For God forbid so many simple souls
Should perish by the sword! And I myself,
Rather than bloody war shall cut them short,
Will parley with Jack Cade their general.
But stay, I'll read it over once again.
QUEEN. Ah, barbarous villains! Hath this lovely face
Rul'd like a wandering planet over me,
And could it not enforce them to relent
That were unworthy to behold the same?
KING HENRY. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.
SAY. Ay, but I hope your Highness shall have his.
KING HENRY. How now, madam!
Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death?
I fear me, love, if that I had been dead,
Thou wouldst not have mourn'd so much for me.
QUEEN. No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee.
Enter A MESSENGER
KING HENRY. How now! What news? Why com'st thou in such haste?
MESSENGER. The rebels are in Southwark; fly, my lord!
Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer,
Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house,
And calls your Grace usurper, openly,
And vows to crown himself in Westminster.
His army is a ragged multitude
Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless;
Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death
Hath given them heart and courage to proceed.
All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen,
They call false caterpillars and intend their death.
KING HENRY. O graceless men! they know not what they do.
BUCKINGHAM. My gracious lord, retire to Killingworth
Until a power be rais'd to put them down.
QUEEN. Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive,
These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd!
KING HENRY. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee;
Therefore away with us to Killingworth.
SAY. So might your Grace's person be in danger.
The sight of me is odious in their eyes;
And therefore in this city will I stay
And live alone as secret as I may.
Enter another MESSENGER
SECOND MESSENGER. Jack Cade hath gotten London Bridge.
The citizens fly and forsake their houses;
The rascal people, thirsting after prey,
Join with the traitor; and they jointly swear
To spoil the city and your royal court.
BUCKINGHAM. Then linger not, my lord; away, take horse.
KING HENRY. Come Margaret; God, our hope, will succour us.
QUEEN. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceas'd.
KING HENRY. [To LORD SAY] Farewell, my lord, trust not the Kentish
rebels.
BUCKINGHAM. Trust nobody, for fear you be betray'd.
SAY. The trust I have is in mine innocence,
And therefore am I bold and resolute. Exeunt
SCENE V.
London. The Tower
Enter LORD SCALES Upon the Tower, walking. Then enter two or three CITIZENS,
below
SCALES. How now! Is Jack Cade slain?
FIRST CITIZEN. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they have
won the bridge, killing all those that withstand them.
The Lord Mayor craves aid of your honour from the
Tower, to defend the city from the rebels.
SCALES. Such aid as I can spare you shall command,
But I am troubled here with them myself;
The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower.
But get you to Smithfield, and gather head,
And thither I will send you Matthew Goffe;
Fight for your King, your country, and your lives;
And so, farewell, for I must hence again. Exeunt
SCENE VI.
London. Cannon street
Enter JACK CADE and the rest, and strikes his staff on London Stone
CADE. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here, sitting upon
London Stone, I charge and command that, of the city's cost, the
pissing conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of
our reign. And now henceforward it shall be treason for any that
calls me other than Lord Mortimer.
Enter a SOLDIER, running
SOLDIER. Jack Cade! Jack Cade!
CADE. Knock him down there. [They kill him]
SMITH. If this fellow be wise, he'll never call ye Jack Cade more;
I think he hath a very fair warning.
DICK. My lord, there's an army gathered together in Smithfield.
CADE. Come then, let's go fight with them. But first go and set
London Bridge on fire; and, if you can, burn down the Tower too.
Come, let's away. Exeunt
SCENE VII.
London. Smithfield
Alarums. MATTHEW GOFFE is slain, and all the rest. Then enter JACK CADE,
with his company
CADE. So, sirs. Now go some and pull down the Savoy; others to th'
Inns of Court; down with them all.
DICK. I have a suit unto your lordship.
CADE. Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word.
DICK. Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth.
JOHN. [Aside] Mass, 'twill be sore law then; for he was thrust in
the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole yet.
SMITH. [Aside] Nay, John, it will be stinking law; for his breath
stinks with eating toasted cheese.
CADE. I have thought upon it; it shall be so. Away, burn all the
records of the realm. My mouth shall be the Parliament of
England.
JOHN. [Aside] Then we are like to have biting statutes, unless his
teeth be pull'd out.
CADE. And henceforward all things shall be in common.
Enter a MESSENGER
MESSENGER. My lord, a prize, a prize! Here's the Lord Say, which
sold the towns in France; he that made us pay one and twenty
fifteens, and one shining to the pound, the last subsidy.
Enter GEORGE BEVIS, with the LORD SAY
CADE. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. Ah, thou say,
thou serge, nay, thou buckram lord! Now art thou within point
blank of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer to my
Majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu the
Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these presence, even
the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must
sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most
traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a
grammar school; and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other
books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to
be us'd, and, contrary to the King, his crown, and dignity, thou
hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face that thou
hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb, and
such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear.
Thou hast appointed justices of peace, to call poor men before
them about matters they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou
hast put them in prison, and because they could not read, thou
hast hang'd them, when, indeed, only for that cause they have
been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost
thou not?
SAY. What of that?
CADE. Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when
honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets.
DICK. And work in their shirt too, as myself, for example, that am
a butcher.
SAY. You men of Kent-
DICK. What say you of Kent?
SAY. Nothing but this: 'tis 'bona terra, mala gens.'
CADE. Away with him, away with him! He speaks Latin.
SAY. Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will.
Kent, in the Commentaries Caesar writ,
Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle.
Sweet is the country, because full of riches;
The people liberal valiant, active, wealthy;
Which makes me hope you are not void of pity.
I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy;
Yet, to recover them, would lose my life.
Justice with favour have I always done;
Pray'rs and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never.
When have I aught exacted at your hands,
But to maintain the King, the realm, and you?
Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks,
Because my book preferr'd me to the King,
And seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven,
Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits
You cannot but forbear to murder me.
This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings
For your behoof.
CADE. Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field?
SAY. Great men have reaching hands. Oft have I struck
Those that I never saw, and struck them dead.
GEORGE. O monstrous coward! What, to come behind folks?
SAY. These cheeks are pale for watching for your good.
CADE. Give him a box o' th' ear, and that will make 'em red again.
SAY. Long sitting to determine poor men's causes
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases.
CADE. Ye shall have a hempen caudle then, and the help of hatchet.
DICK. Why dost thou quiver, man?
SAY. The palsy, and not fear, provokes me.
CADE. Nay, he nods at us, as who should say 'I'll be even with
you'; I'll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole, or no.
Take him away, and behead him.
SAY. Tell me: wherein have I offended most?
Have I affected wealth or honour? Speak.
Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold?
Is my apparel sumptuous to behold?
Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek my death?
These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding,
This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts.
O, let me live!
CADE. [Aside] I feel remorse in myself with his words; but I'll
bridle it. He shall die, an it be but for pleading so well for
his life.- Away with him! He has a familiar under his tongue; he
speaks not o' God's name. Go, take him away, I say, and strike
off his head presently, and then break into his son-in-law's
house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them
both upon two poles hither.
ALL. It shall be done.
SAY. Ah, countrymen! if when you make your pray'rs,
God should be so obdurate as yourselves,
How would it fare with your departed souls?
And therefore yet relent and save my life.
CADE. Away with him, and do as I command ye. [Exeunt some with
LORD SAY] The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head
on his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute; there shall not a
maid be married, but she shall pay to me her maidenhead ere they
have it. Men shall hold of me in capite; and we charge and
command that their wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue
can tell.
DICK. My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside, and take up
commodities upon our bills?
CADE. Marry, presently.
ALL. O, brave!
Re-enter one with the heads
CADE. But is not this braver? Let them kiss one another, for they
lov'd well when they were alive. Now part them again, lest they
consult about the giving up of some more towns in France.
Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night; for with these
borne before us instead of maces will we ride through the
streets, and at every corner have them kiss. Away! Exeunt
SCENE VIII.
Southwark
Alarum and retreat. Enter again CADE and all his rabblement
CADE. Up Fish Street! down Saint Magnus' Corner! Kill and knock
down! Throw them into Thames! [Sound a parley]
What noise is this I hear? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat
or parley when I command them kill?
Enter BUCKINGHAM and old CLIFFORD, attended
BUCKINGHAM. Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee.
And therefore yet relent, and save my life.
Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the King
Unto the commons whom thou hast misled;
And here pronounce free pardon to them all
That will forsake thee and go home in peace.
CLIFFORD. What say ye, countrymen? Will ye relent
And yield to mercy whilst 'tis offer'd you,
Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths?
Who loves the King, and will embrace his pardon,
Fling up his cap and say 'God save his Majesty!'
Who hateth him and honours not his father,
Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake,
Shake he his weapon at us and pass by.
ALL. God save the King! God save the King!
CADE. What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye so brave?
And you, base peasants, do ye believe him? Will you needs be
hang'd with your about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke
through London gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart
in Southwark? I thought ye would never have given out these arms
till you had recovered your ancient freedom. But you are all
recreants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the
nobility. Let them break your backs with burdens, take your
houses over your heads, ravish your wives and daughters before
your faces. For me, I will make shift for one; and so God's curse
light upon you all!
ALL. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade!
CLIFFORD. Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth,
That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him?
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes?
Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to;
Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil,
Unless by robbing of your friends and us.
Were't not a shame that whilst you live at jar
The fearful French, whom you late vanquished,
Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you?
Methinks already in this civil broil
I see them lording it in London streets,
Crying 'Villiago!' unto all they meet.
Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry
Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy.
To France, to France, and get what you have lost;
Spare England, for it is your native coast.
Henry hath money; you are strong and manly.
God on our side, doubt not of victory.
ALL. A Clifford! a Clifford! We'll follow the King and Clifford.
CADE. Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this
multitude? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to an hundred
mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. I see them lay their
heads together to surprise me. My sword make way for me for here
is no staying. In despite of the devils and hell, have through
the very middest of you! and heavens and honour be witness that
no want of resolution in me, but only my followers' base and
ignominious treasons, makes me betake me to my heels.
Exit
BUCKINGHAM. What, is he fled? Go some, and follow him;
And he that brings his head unto the King
Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward.
Exeunt some of them
Follow me, soldiers; we'll devise a mean
To reconcile you all unto the King. Exeunt
SCENE IX.
Killing, worth Castle
Sound trumpets. Enter KING, QUEEN, and SOMERSET, on the terrace
KING HENRY. Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne
And could command no more content than I?
No sooner was I crept out of my cradle
But I was made a king, at nine months old.
Was never subject long'd to be a King
As I do long and wish to be a subject.
Enter BUCKINGHAM and old CLIFFORD
BUCKINGHAM. Health and glad tidings to your Majesty!
KING HENRY. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surpris'd?
Or is he but retir'd to make him strong?
Enter, below, multitudes, with halters about their necks
CLIFFORD. He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield,
And humbly thus, with halters on their necks,
Expect your Highness' doom of life or death.
KING HENRY. Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates,
To entertain my vows of thanks and praise!
Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives,
And show'd how well you love your Prince and country.
Continue still in this so good a mind,
And Henry, though he be infortunate,
Assure yourselves, will never be unkind.