*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 Clifford.

* Buck. Health, and glad tidings, to your majesty! * K. Hen. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor, Cade, surpriz❜d?

* Or is he but retir'd to make him strong?

Enter, below, a great number of CADE's Followers, with Halters about their Necks.

Clif. He's 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.
K. Hen. 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:
And so, with thanks, and pardon to you all,
'I do dismiss, you to your several countries.
All. God save the king! God save the king!

Enter a Messenger.

*Mess. Please it your grace to be advértised, * The duke of York is newly come from Ireland: * And with a puissant and a mighty power,

* Of Gallowglasses, and stout Kernes,'
*Is marching hitherward in proud array;
*And still proclaimeth, as he comes along,
* His arms are only to remove from thee

'The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor. * K. Hen. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and York distress'd;

* Like to a ship, that, having 'scap'd a tempest, *Is straightway calm'd and boarded with a pirate: * But now is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd; *And now is York in arms to second him.

* I pray thee, Buckingham, go forth and meet him;

* And ask him, what's the reason of these arms. * Tell him, I'll send duke Edmund to the Tower;* And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither,

* Until his army be dismiss'd from him.

* Som. My lord,

* I'll yield myself to prison willingly,

* Or unto death, to do my country good.

* K. Hen. In any case, be not too rough in terms; * For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard language. * Buck. I will, my lord; and doubt not so to deal, * As all things shall redound unto your good.

*K. Hen. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better;

* For yet may England curse my wretched reign.

[Exeunt.

9Of gallowglasses, and stout Kernes,] These were two orders of foot-soldiers among the Irish.

SCENE X.

Kent. Iden's Garden.1

Enter CADE.

*Cade. Fye on ambition! fye on myself; that * have a sword, and yet am ready to famish! These * five days have I hid me in these woods; and durst *not peep out, for all the country is lay'd for me; * but now I am so hungry, that if I might have a *lease of my life for a thousand years, I could stay *no longer. Wherefore, on a brick-wall have I * climbed into this garden; to see if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather. And, I think, this word sallet was born to do me good: *for, many a time, but for a sallet, my brain-pan2 *had been cleft with a brown bill; and, many a time, *when I have been dry, and bravely marching, it * hath served me instead of a quart-pot to drink in; * And now the word sallet must serve me to feed on.

Enter IDEN, with Servants.

'Iden. Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court,

'And may enjoy such quiet walks as these?
This small inheritance, my father left me,
'Contenteth me, and is worth a monarchy.
'I seek not to wax great by others' waning;
'Or gather wealth, I care not with what envy;

'Kent. Iden's Garden.] This Iden was the new sheriff of Kent, who had followed Cade from Rochester.

2

but for a sallet, my brain-pan, &c.] A quibble from salut, Fr. as an helmet keeps the head safe.

Sufficeth, that I have maintains my state,

And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.

'Cade. Here's the lord of the soil come to seize 'me for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without ' leave. Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the king for carrying my 'head to him; but I'll make thee eat iron like an 'ostrich, and swallow my sword like a great pin, ere • thou and I part.

'Iden. Why, rude companion, whatso'er thou be, 'I know thee not; Why then should I betray thee? 'Is't not enough, to break into my garden,

And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, 'Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms?

Cade. Brave thee? ay, by the best blood that ever was broached, and beard thee too. Look on me well: I have eat no meat these five days: yet, come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as a door nail, I pray God, I may never eat grass more.

Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England
stands,

That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent,
Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man.
Oppose thy stedfast gazing eyes to mine,
'See if thou canst outface me with thy looks.
'Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser;

Thy hand is but a finger to my fist;

Thy leg a stick, compared with this truncheon;

'My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast; 'And if mine arm be heaved in the air,

Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth.

'As for more words, whose greatness answers words, 'Let this my sword report what speech forbears.

* Cade. By my valour, the most complete cham* pion that ever I heard.-Steel, if thou turn the

edge, or cut not out the burly-boned clown in 'chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I be'seech God on my knees, thou mayest be turned to hobnails. [They fight. CADE falls.] O, I am slain! famine, and no other, hath slain me: let 'ten thousand devils come against me, and give me 'but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them 'all. Wither, garden; and be henceforth a burying-place to all that do dwell in this house, because 'the unconquered soul of Cade is fled.

'Iden. Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor?

'Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, "And hang thee o'er my tomb, when I am dead: * Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point; *But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat, *To emblaze the honour that thy master got.

'Cade. Iden, farewell; and be proud of thy vic'tory: Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her best 'man, and exhort all the world to be cowards; for 'I, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour.

[Dies. * Iden. How much thou wrong'st me,3 heaven,

be my judge.

* Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee!

* And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,

* So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell.*

3 How much thou wrong'st me,] That is, in supposing that I am proud of my victory.

* So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell, &c.] Not to dwell upon the wickedness of this horrid wish, with which Iden debases his character, the whole speech is wild and confused. To draw a man by the heels, headlong, is somewhat difficult; nor can I discover how the dunghill would be his grave, if his trunk were left to be fed upon by crows. These I conceive not to be the faults of corruption but negligence, and therefore do not attempt correction.

JOHNSON.