All God fave your Majefty!

Cade. I thank you, good people. There fhall be no money; all shall eat and drink upon 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 the skin of an innocent lamb fhould be made parchment; that parchment being fcribbled o'er, fhould undo a man? Some fay, the bee ftings ; but I fay, 'tis bee's wax; for I did but feal once to a thing, and I was never my own man fince. How now? who is there?

Enter a Clerk.

Weav. The Clerk of Chatham; he can write, and read, and caft accompt.

Cade. O monftrous!

Weav. We took him fetting boys copies.

Cade. Here's a villain!

Weav. He'as a book in his pocket with red letters in't.

Cade. Nay, then he's a conjurer.

Dick. Nay, he can make obligations, and write court-hand.

Cade. I am forry for't: the man is a proper man, of mine honour; unless I find him guilty, he fhall not die. Come hither, firrah, I muft examine thee. What is thy name?

Clerk. Emmanuel.

Dick. They ufe to write it on the top of letters 'twill go hard with you.

Cade. Let me alone. Doft thou ufe to write thy name? or haft thou a mark to thyfelf like an honest plain-dealing man?

Clerk. Sir, I thank God, I have been fo well brought up that I can write my name.

All. He hath confefs'd; away with him; he's a villain and a traitor.

i.e. of letters miffive, and fuch like public acts. See Mabillon's Diplomata.

Cade. Away with him, I fay; hang him with his pen and inkhorn about his neck.

[Exit one with the Clerk.

Enter Michael.

Mich. Where is our General?

Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow.

Mich. Fly, fly, fly; Sir Humphry Stafford and his brother are hard by with the King's forces.

Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down. He fhall be encounter'd with a man as good as himself. He is but a knight, is a'?

Mich. No.

Cade. To equal him, I will make myfelf a knight prefently. Rife up Sir John Mortimer. Now, have at him. Is there any more of them that be knights? Mich. Ay, his brother.

Cade. Then kneel down, Dick Butcher. Rise up, Sir Dick Butcher. Now found up the drum.

SCENE II.

Enter Sir Humphry Stafford, and young Stafford, with drum and foldiers.

Staf Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, Mark d for the gallows, lay your weapon's down, Home to your cottages, forfake this groom; The King is merciful if you revolt.

Y. Staf. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to blood, If you go foreward; therefore yield or die.

Gade. As for these filken coated flaves, I pass not

It is to you, good people, that I fpeak,
O'er whom (in time to come) I hope to reign;
For I am rightful heir unto the crown.

Staf. Villain, thy father was a plaisterer,

And thou thyself a fhearman, art thou not?
Cade. And Adam was a gardener.

Y. Staf. And what of that?

Cade. Marry, this.

*

Edmund Mortimer Earl of

March married the Duke of Clarence's daughter, did

he not?

Staf. Ay, Sir.

* i. e. I regard not, A common phrase of that time.

Cade. By her he had two children at one birth.
Y. Staf. That's falfe..

Cade. Ay, there's the queftion; but I fay, 'tis true. The elder of them being put to nurse

Was by a beggar-woman ftol'n away;
And, ignorant of his birth and parentage,
Became a bricklayer when he came to age.
His fon am 1; deny it if you can.

Dick. Nay, 'tis too true, therefore he shall be King. Weav. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to teftify it; there fore deny it not.

Staf. And will you credit this base drudge's words, That fpeaks he knows not what?

All. Ay, marry, will we; therefore get you gone. Y. Staf. Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this.

Gade. He lies, for I invented it myself. Go to, firrah, tell the King from me, that for his father's fake, Henry the Fifth, (in whofe time boys went to fpancoun ter for French crowns), I am content he fhall reign; but I'll be Protector over him.

Dick. And furthermore, we'll have the Lord Say's head, for felling the dukedom of Maine.

Cade. And good reafon; for thereby is England main'd, and fain to go with a staff, but that my puiffance holds it up. Fellow Kings, I tell you, 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.

Staf. O grofs and miferable ignorance!

Cade. Nay, anfwer if you can. The Frenchmen are our enemies: go to then; I afk but this, can he that fpeaks with the tongue of the enemy be a good counfellor or no?

All. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head. r. Staf. Well, feeing gentle words will not prevail, Affail them with the army of the King.

Staf. 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 childrens' fight)

Be hang'd up for example at their doors;

And you that be the King's friends, follow me.

[Exeunt the two Staffords, with their train.
Cade And you that love the commons, follow me.
Now fhew yourselves men, 'tis for liberty,
We will not leave one Lord, one Gentleman;
Spare none, but fuch as go in clouted fhoone;
For they are thrifty honeft men, and fuch

As would (but that they dare not) take our parts.
Dick. They are all in order, and march towards us,
Cade. But then are we in order, when we are most
out of order. Come, march foreward,

[Exeunt Cade and his party[Alarum to fight, wherein both the Staffords are flains:

Re-enter Cade and the reft.

Cade. Where's Dick the butcher of Afhford?

Dick. Here, Sir.

Cade. They fell before thee like fheep and oxen, and thou behavedit thyfelf as if thou hadst been in thine own flaughter-houfe: therefore thus I will 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 defire no more.

Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deferv'ft_no lefs. This monument of the victory will I bear, and the bodies shall be dragg'd at my horse's heels, till 1 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 o pen the gaols, and let out the prifoners..

Cade. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's march towards London.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Changes to Black-heath.

Enter King Henry with a fupplication, and Qeen Margaret with Suffolk's head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Say.

2. Mar. Oft have I heard, that grief foftens the And makes it fearful and degenerate;

Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep.

[mind,

But who can ceafe to weep, and look on this?
Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast:
But where's the body that I fhould embrace?

Buck. What anfwer makes your Grace to the rebels fupplication?

K. Henry. I'll fend fome holy bifhop to intreat;
For God forbid fo many fimple fouls

Should perish by the sword. And I myself,
Rather than bloody war fhould cut them short,
Will parley with Jack Cade their General.
But ftay, I'll read it over once again.

[face

2. Mar. Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely Rul'd like a wand'ring planet over me, And could it not inforce them to relent, That were unworthy to behold the fame ?

K. Henry. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath fworn to have thy head.

Say. Ay, but I hope your Highnefs fhall have his.
K. Henry. How now, Madam?

Lamenting ftill, and mourning Suffolk's death?
I fear me, love, if that I had been dead,

Thou wouldeft not have mourn'd fo much for me.
2. Mar. My love, I should not mourn, but die for
thee.

Enter a Meffenger.

K. Henry. How now? what news? why com'ft thou in fuch hafte?

Me. The rebels are in Southwark: fly, my Lord. Jack Cade proclaims himfelf Lord Mortimer, Defcended from the Duke of Clarence' house And calls your Grace ufurper openly, And vows to crown himself in Westminster.

His army is a ragged multitude

e;

Of hinds and peafants, rude and merciless.
Sir Humphry Stafford and his brother's death
Hath given them heart, and courage to proceed.
All fcholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen,

They call falfe caterpillars, and intend their death.
K. Henry. O graceless men! they know not what
they do.

Buck. My gracious Lord, retire to Killingworth,