Part 2 out of 3
Enter a Poste.
Post. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amaine,
To signifie, that Rebels there are vp,
And put the Englishmen vnto the Sword.
Send Succours (Lords) and stop the Rage betime,
Before the Wound doe grow vncurable;
For being greene, there is great hope of helpe
Card. A Breach that craues a quick expedient stoppe.
What counsaile giue you in this weightie cause?
Yorke. That Somerset be sent as Regent thither:
'Tis meet that luckie Ruler be imploy'd,
Witnesse the fortune he hath had in France
Som. If Yorke, with all his farre-fet pollicie,
Had beene the Regent there, in stead of me,
He neuer would haue stay'd in France so long
Yorke. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done.
I rather would haue lost my Life betimes,
Then bring a burthen of dis-honour home,
By staying there so long, till all were lost.
Shew me one skarre, character'd on thy Skinne,
Mens flesh preseru'd so whole, doe seldome winne
Qu. Nay then, this sparke will proue a raging fire,
If Wind and Fuell be brought, to feed it with:
No more, good Yorke; sweet Somerset be still.
Thy fortune, Yorke, hadst thou beene Regent there,
Might happily haue prou'd farre worse then his
Yorke. What, worse then naught? nay, then a shame
Somerset. And in the number, thee, that wishest
Card. My Lord of Yorke, trie what your fortune is:
Th' vnciuill Kernes of Ireland are in Armes,
And temper Clay with blood of Englishmen.
To Ireland will you leade a Band of men,
Collected choycely, from each Countie some,
And trie your hap against the Irishmen?
Yorke. I will, my Lord, so please his Maiestie
Suff. Why, our Authoritie is his consent,
And what we doe establish, he confirmes:
Then, Noble Yorke, take thou this Taske in hand
Yorke. I am content: Prouide me Souldiers, Lords,
Whiles I take order for mine owne affaires
Suff. A charge, Lord Yorke, that I will see perform'd.
But now returne we to the false Duke Humfrey
Card. No more of him: for I will deale with him,
That henceforth he shall trouble vs no more:
And so breake off, the day is almost spent,
Lord Suffolke, you and I must talke of that euent
Yorke. My Lord of Suffolke, within foureteene dayes
At Bristow I expect my Souldiers,
For there Ile shippe them all for Ireland
Suff. Ile see it truly done, my Lord of Yorke.
Yorke. Now Yorke, or neuer, steele thy fearfull thoughts,
And change misdoubt to resolution;
Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art;
Resigne to death, it is not worth th' enioying:
Let pale-fac't feare keepe with the meane-borne man,
And finde no harbor in a Royall heart.
Faster the[n] Spring-time showres, comes thoght on thoght,
And not a thought, but thinkes on Dignitie.
My Brayne, more busie then the laboring Spider,
Weaues tedious Snares to trap mine Enemies.
Well Nobles, well: 'tis politikely done,
To send me packing with an Hoast of men:
I feare me, you but warme the starued Snake,
Who cherisht in your breasts, will sting your hearts.
'Twas men I lackt, and you will giue them me;
I take it kindly: yet be well assur'd,
You put sharpe Weapons in a mad-mans hands.
Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mightie Band,
I will stirre vp in England some black Storme,
Shall blowe ten thousand Soules to Heauen, or Hell:
And this fell Tempest shall not cease to rage,
Vntill the Golden Circuit on my Head,
Like to the glorious Sunnes transparant Beames,
Doe calme the furie of this mad-bred Flawe.
And for a minister of my intent,
I haue seduc'd a head-strong Kentishman,
Iohn Cade of Ashford,
To make Commotion, as full well he can,
Vnder the title of Iohn Mortimer.
In Ireland haue I seene this stubborne Cade
Oppose himselfe against a Troupe of Kernes,
And fought so long, till that his thighes with Darts
Were almost like a sharpe-quill'd Porpentine:
And in the end being rescued, I haue seene
Him capre vpright, like a wilde Morisco,
Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells.
Full often, like a shag-hayr'd craftie Kerne,
Hath he conuersed with the Enemie,
And vndiscouer'd, come to me againe,
And giuen me notice of their Villanies.
This Deuill here shall be my substitute;
For that Iohn Mortimer, which now is dead,
In face, in gate, in speech he doth resemble.
By this, I shall perceiue the Commons minde,
How they affect the House and Clayme of Yorke.
Say he be taken, rackt, and tortured;
I know, no paine they can inflict vpon him,
Will make him say, I mou'd him to those Armes.
Say that he thriue, as 'tis great like he will,
Why then from Ireland come I with my strength,
And reape the Haruest which that Rascall sow'd.
For Humfrey; being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart: the next for me.
Enter two or three running ouer the Stage, from the Murther of
1. Runne to my Lord of Suffolke: let him know
We haue dispatcht the Duke, as he commanded
2. Oh, that it were to doe: what haue we done?
Didst euer heare a man so penitent?
1. Here comes my Lord
Suff. Now Sirs, haue you dispatcht this thing?
1. I, my good Lord, hee's dead
Suff. Why that's well said. Goe, get you to my House,
I will reward you for this venturous deed:
The King and all the Peeres are here at hand.
Haue you layd faire the Bed? Is all things well,
According as I gaue directions?
1. 'Tis, my good Lord
Suff. Away, be gone.
Sound Trumpets. Enter the King, the Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke,
King. Goe call our Vnckle to our presence straight:
Say, we intend to try his Grace to day,
If he be guiltie, as 'tis published
Suff. Ile call him presently, my Noble Lord.
King. Lords take your places: and I pray you all
Proceed no straiter 'gainst our Vnckle Gloster,
Then from true euidence, of good esteeme,
He be approu'd in practise culpable
Queene. God forbid any Malice should preuayle,
That faultlesse may condemne a Noble man:
Pray God he may acquit him of suspition
King. I thanke thee Nell, these wordes content mee
How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou?
Where is our Vnckle? what's the matter, Suffolke?
Suff. Dead in his Bed, my Lord: Gloster is dead
Queene. Marry God forfend
Card. Gods secret Iudgement: I did dreame to Night,
The Duke was dumbe, and could not speake a word.
Qu. How fares my Lord? Helpe Lords, the King is
Som. Rere vp his Body, wring him by the Nose
Qu. Runne, goe, helpe, helpe: Oh Henry ope thine eyes
Suff. He doth reuiue againe, Madame be patient
King. Oh Heauenly God
Qu. How fares my gracious Lord?
Suff. Comfort my Soueraigne, gracious Henry comfort
King. What, doth my Lord of Suffolke comfort me?
Came he right now to sing a Rauens Note,
Whose dismall tune bereft my Vitall powres:
And thinkes he, that the chirping of a Wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chase away the first-conceiued sound?
Hide not thy poyson with such sugred words,
Lay not thy hands on me: forbeare I say,
Their touch affrights me as a Serpents sting.
Thou balefull Messenger, out of my sight:
Vpon thy eye-balls, murderous Tyrannie
Sits in grim Maiestie, to fright the World.
Looke not vpon me, for thine eyes are wounding;
Yet doe not goe away: come Basiliske,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight:
For in the shade of death, I shall finde ioy;
In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead
Queene. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolke thus?
Although the Duke was enemie to him,
Yet he most Christian-like laments his death:
And for my selfe, Foe as he was to me,
Might liquid teares, or heart-offending groanes,
Or blood-consuming sighes recall his Life;
I would be blinde with weeping, sicke with grones,
Looke pale as Prim-rose with blood-drinking sighes,
And all to haue the Noble Duke aliue.
What know I how the world may deeme of me?
For it is knowne we were but hollow Friends:
It may be iudg'd I made the Duke away,
So shall my name with Slanders tongue be wounded,
And Princes Courts be fill'd with my reproach:
This get I by his death: Aye me vnhappie,
To be a Queene, and Crown'd with infamie
King. Ah woe is me for Gloster, wretched man
Queen. Be woe for me, more wretched then he is.
What, Dost thou turne away, and hide thy face?
I am no loathsome Leaper, looke on me.
What? Art thou like the Adder waxen deafe?
Be poysonous too, and kill thy forlorne Queene.
Is all thy comfort shut in Glosters Tombe?
Why then Dame Elianor was neere thy ioy.
Erect his Statue, and worship it,
And make my Image but an Ale-house signe.
Was I for this nye wrack'd vpon the Sea,
And twice by aukward winde from Englands banke
Droue backe againe vnto my Natiue Clime.
What boaded this? but well fore-warning winde
Did seeme to say, seeke not a Scorpions Nest,
Nor set no footing on this vnkinde Shore.
What did I then? But curst the gentle gusts,
And he that loos'd them forth their Brazen Caues,
And bid them blow towards Englands blessed shore,
Or turne our Sterne vpon a dreadfull Rocke:
Yet aeolus would not be a murtherer,
But left that hatefull office vnto thee.
The pretty vaulting Sea refus'd to drowne me,
Knowing that thou wouldst haue me drown'd on shore
With teares as salt as Sea, through thy vnkindnesse.
The splitting Rockes cowr'd in the sinking sands,
And would not dash me with their ragged sides,
Because thy flinty heart more hard then they,
Might in thy Pallace, perish Elianor.
As farre as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffes,
When from thy Shore, the Tempest beate vs backe,
I stood vpon the Hatches in the storme:
And when the duskie sky, began to rob
My earnest-gaping-sight of thy Lands view,
I tooke a costly Iewell from my necke,
A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds,
And threw it towards thy Land: The Sea receiu'd it,
And so I wish'd thy body might my Heart:
And euen with this, I lost faire Englands view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my Heart,
And call'd them blinde and duskie Spectacles,
For loosing ken of Albions wished Coast.
How often haue I tempted Suffolkes tongue
(The agent of thy foule inconstancie)
To sit and watch me as Ascanius did,
When he to madding Dido would vnfold
His Fathers Acts, commenc'd in burning Troy.
Am I not witcht like her? Or thou not false like him?
Aye me, I can no more: Dye Elinor,
For Henry weepes, that thou dost liue so long.
Noyse within. Enter Warwicke, and many Commons.
War. It is reported, mighty Soueraigne,
That good Duke Humfrey Traiterously is murdred
By Suffolke, and the Cardinall Beaufords meanes:
The Commons like an angry Hiue of Bees
That want their Leader, scatter vp and downe,
And care not who they sting in his reuenge.
My selfe haue calm'd their spleenfull mutinie,
Vntill they heare the order of his death
King. That he is dead good Warwick, 'tis too true,
But how he dyed, God knowes, not Henry:
Enter his Chamber, view his breathlesse Corpes,
And comment then vpon his sodaine death
War. That shall I do my Liege; Stay Salsburie
With the rude multitude, till I returne
King. O thou that iudgest all things, stay my thoghts:
My thoughts, that labour to perswade my soule,
Some violent hands were laid on Humfries life:
If my suspect be false, forgiue me God,
For iudgement onely doth belong to thee:
Faine would I go to chafe his palie lips,
With twenty thousand kisses, and to draine
Vpon his face an Ocean of salt teares,
To tell my loue vnto his dumbe deafe trunke,
And with my fingers feele his hand, vnfeeling:
But all in vaine are these meane Obsequies,
Bed put forth.
And to suruey his dead and earthy Image:
What were it but to make my sorrow greater?
Warw. Come hither gracious Soueraigne, view this
King. That is to see how deepe my graue is made,
For with his soule fled all my worldly solace:
For seeing him, I see my life in death
War. As surely as my soule intends to liue
With that dread King that tooke our state vpon him,
To free vs from his Fathers wrathfull curse,
I do beleeue that violent hands were laid
Vpon the life of this thrice-famed Duke
Suf. A dreadfull Oath, sworne with a solemn tongue:
What instance giues Lord Warwicke for his vow
War. See how the blood is setled in his face.
Oft haue I seene a timely-parted Ghost,
Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodlesse,
Being all descended to the labouring heart,
Who in the Conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the same for aydance 'gainst the enemy,
Which with the heart there cooles, and ne're returneth,
To blush and beautifie the Cheeke againe.
But see, his face is blacke, and full of blood:
His eye-balles further out, than when he liued,
Staring full gastly, like a strangled man:
His hayre vprear'd, his nostrils stretcht with strugling:
His hands abroad display'd, as one that graspt
And tugg'd for Life, and was by strength subdude.
Looke on the sheets his haire (you see) is sticking,
His well proportion'd Beard, made ruffe and rugged,
Like to the Summers Corne by Tempest lodged:
It cannot be but he was murdred heere,
The least of all these signes were probable
Suf. Why Warwicke, who should do the D[uke]. to death?
My selfe and Beauford had him in protection,
And we I hope sir, are no murtherers
War. But both of you were vowed D[uke]. Humfries foes,
And you (forsooth) had the good Duke to keepe:
Tis like you would not feast him like a friend,
And 'tis well seene, he found an enemy
Queen. Than you belike suspect these Noblemen,
As guilty of Duke Humfries timelesse death
Warw. Who finds the Heyfer dead, and bleeding fresh,
And sees fast-by, a Butcher with an Axe,
But will suspect, 'twas he that made the slaughter?
Who finds the Partridge in the Puttocks Nest,
But may imagine how the Bird was dead,
Although the Kyte soare with vnbloudied Beake?
Euen so suspitious is this Tragedie
Qu. Are you the Butcher, Suffolk? where's your Knife?
Is Beauford tearm'd a Kyte? where are his Tallons?
Suff. I weare no Knife, to slaughter sleeping men,
But here's a vengefull Sword, rusted with ease,
That shall be scowred in his rancorous heart,
That slanders me with Murthers Crimson Badge.
Say, if thou dar'st, prowd Lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faultie in Duke Humfreyes death
Warw. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolke dare
Qu. He dares not calme his contumelious Spirit,
Nor cease to be an arrogant Controller,
Though Suffolke dare him twentie thousand times
Warw. Madame be still: with reuerence may I say,
For euery word you speake in his behalfe,
Is slander to your Royall Dignitie
Suff. Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanor,
If euer Lady wrong'd her Lord so much,
Thy Mother tooke into her blamefull Bed
Some sterne vntutur'd Churle; and Noble Stock
Was graft with Crab-tree slippe, whose Fruit thou art,
And neuer of the Neuils Noble Race
Warw. But that the guilt of Murther bucklers thee,
And I should rob the Deaths-man of his Fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
And that my Soueraignes presence makes me milde,
I would, false murd'rous Coward, on thy Knee
Make thee begge pardon for thy passed speech,
And say, it was thy Mother that thou meant'st,
That thou thy selfe wast borne in Bastardie;
And after all this fearefull Homage done,
Giue thee thy hyre, and send thy Soule to Hell,
Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men
Suff. Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood,
If from this presence thou dar'st goe with me
Warw. Away euen now, or I will drag thee hence:
Vnworthy though thou art, Ile cope with thee,
And doe some seruice to Duke Humfreyes Ghost.
King. What stronger Brest-plate then a heart vntainted?
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his Quarrell iust;
And he but naked, though lockt vp in Steele,
Whose Conscience with Iniustice is corrupted.
A noyse within.
Queene. What noyse is this?
Enter Suffolke and Warwicke, with their Weapons drawne.
King. Why how now Lords?
Your wrathfull Weapons drawne,
Here in our presence? Dare you be so bold?
Why what tumultuous clamor haue we here?
Suff. The trayt'rous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all vpon me, mightie Soueraigne.
Salisb. Sirs stand apart, the King shall know your
Dread Lord, the Commons send you word by me,
Vnlesse Lord Suffolke straight be done to death,
Or banished faire Englands Territories,
They will by violence teare him from your Pallace,
And torture him with grieuous lingring death.
They say, by him the good Duke Humfrey dy'de:
They say, in him they feare your Highnesse death;
And meere instinct of Loue and Loyaltie,
Free from a stubborne opposite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking,
Makes them thus forward in his Banishment.
They say, in care of your most Royall Person,
That if your Highnesse should intend to sleepe,
And charge, that no man should disturbe your rest,
In paine of your dislike, or paine of death;
Yet not withstanding such a strait Edict,
Were there a Serpent seene, with forked Tongue,
That slyly glyded towards your Maiestie,
It were but necessarie you were wak't:
Least being suffer'd in that harmefull slumber,
The mortall Worme might make the sleepe eternall.
And therefore doe they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, where you will, or no,
From such fell Serpents as false Suffolke is;
With whose inuenomed and fatall sting,
Your louing Vnckle, twentie times his worth,
They say is shamefully bereft of life
Commons within. An answer from the King, my Lord
Suff. 'Tis like the Commons, rude vnpolisht Hindes,
Could send such Message to their Soueraigne:
But you, my Lord, were glad to be imploy'd,
To shew how queint an Orator you are.
But all the Honor Salisbury hath wonne,
Is, that he was the Lord Embassador,
Sent from a sort of Tinkers to the King
Within. An answer from the King, or wee will all
King. Goe Salisbury, and tell them all from me,
I thanke them for their tender louing care;
And had I not beene cited so by them,
Yet did I purpose as they doe entreat:
For sure, my thoughts doe hourely prophecie,
Mischance vnto my State by Suffolkes meanes.
And therefore by his Maiestie I sweare,
Whose farre-vnworthie Deputie I am,
He shall not breathe infection in this ayre,
But three dayes longer, on the paine of death
Qu. Oh Henry, let me pleade for gentle Suffolke
King. Vngentle Queene, to call him gentle Suffolke.
No more I say: if thou do'st pleade for him,
Thou wilt but adde encrease vnto my Wrath.
Had I but sayd, I would haue kept my Word;
But when I sweare, it is irreuocable:
If after three dayes space thou here bee'st found,
On any ground that I am Ruler of,
The World shall not be Ransome for thy Life.
Come Warwicke, come good Warwicke, goe with mee,
I haue great matters to impart to thee.
Qu. Mischance and Sorrow goe along with you,
Hearts Discontent, and sowre Affliction,
Be play-fellowes to keepe you companie:
There's two of you, the Deuill make a third,
And three-fold Vengeance tend vpon your steps
Suff. Cease, gentle Queene, these Execrations,
And let thy Suffolke take his heauie leaue
Queen. Fye Coward woman, and soft harted wretch,
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy
Suf. A plague vpon them: wherefore should I cursse
Would curses kill, as doth the Mandrakes grone,
I would inuent as bitter searching termes,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to heare,
Deliuer'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signes of deadly hate,
As leane-fac'd enuy in her loathsome caue.
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words,
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten Flint,
Mine haire be fixt an end, as one distract:
I, euery ioynt should seeme to curse and ban,
And euen now my burthen'd heart would breake
Should I not curse them. Poyson be their drinke.
Gall, worse then Gall, the daintiest that they taste:
Their sweetest shade, a groue of Cypresse Trees:
Their cheefest Prospect, murd'ring Basiliskes:
Their softest Touch, as smart as Lyzards stings:
Their Musicke, frightfull as the Serpents hisse,
And boading Screech-Owles, make the Consort full.
All the foule terrors in darke seated hell -
Q. Enough sweet Suffolke, thou torment'st thy selfe,
And these dread curses like the Sunne 'gainst glasse,
Or like an ouer-charged Gun, recoile,
And turnes the force of them vpon thy selfe
Suf. You bad me ban, and will you bid me leaue?
Now by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curse away a Winters night,
Though standing naked on a Mountaine top,
Where byting cold would neuer let grasse grow,
And thinke it but a minute spent in sport
Qu. Oh, let me intreat thee cease, giue me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournfull teares:
Nor let the raine of heauen wet this place,
To wash away my wofull Monuments.
Oh, could this kisse be printed in thy hand,
That thou might'st thinke vpon these by the Seale,
Through whom a thousand sighes are breath'd for thee.
So get thee gone, that I may know my greefe,
'Tis but surmiz'd, whiles thou art standing by,
As one that surfets, thinking on a want:
I will repeale thee, or be well assur'd,
Aduenture to be banished my selfe:
And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go, speake not to me; euen now be gone.
Oh go not yet. Euen thus, two Friends condemn'd,
Embrace, and kisse, and take ten thousand leaues,
Loather a hundred times to part then dye;
Yet now farewell, and farewell Life with thee
Suf. Thus is poore Suffolke ten times banished,
Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee.
'Tis not the Land I care for, wer't thou thence,
A Wildernesse is populous enough,
So Suffolke had thy heauenly company:
For where thou art, there is the World it selfe,
With euery seuerall pleasure in the World:
And where thou art not, Desolation.
I can no more: Liue thou to ioy thy life;
My selfe no ioy in nought, but that thou liu'st.
Queene. Whether goes Vaux so fast? What newes I
Vaux. To signifie vnto his Maiesty,
That Cardinal Beauford is at point of death:
For sodainly a greeuous sicknesse tooke him,
That makes him gaspe, and stare, and catch the aire,
Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth.
Sometime he talkes, as if Duke Humfries Ghost
Were by his side: Sometime, he calles the King,
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
The secrets of his ouer-charged soule,
And I am sent to tell his Maiestie,
That euen now he cries alowd for him
Qu. Go tell this heauy Message to the King.
Aye me! What is this World? What newes are these?
But wherefore greeue I at an houres poore losse,
Omitting Suffolkes exile, my soules Treasure?
Why onely Suffolke mourne I not for thee?
And with the Southerne clouds, contend in teares?
Theirs for the earths encrease, mine for my sorrowes.
Now get thee hence, the King thou know'st is comming,
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead
Suf. If I depart from thee, I cannot liue,
And in thy sight to dye, what were it else,
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Heere could I breath my soule into the ayre,
As milde and gentle as the Cradle-babe,
Dying with mothers dugge betweene it's lips.
Where from thy sight, I should be raging mad,
And cry out for thee to close vp mine eyes:
To haue thee with thy lippes to stop my mouth:
So should'st thou eyther turne my flying soule,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liu'd in sweete Elizium.
To dye by thee, were but to dye in iest,
From thee to dye, were torture more then death:
Oh let me stay, befall what may befall
Queen. Away: Though parting be a fretfull corosiue,
It is applyed to a deathfull wound.
To France sweet Suffolke: Let me heare from thee:
For wheresoere thou art in this worlds Globe,
Ile haue an Iris that shall finde thee out
Suf. I go
Qu. And take my heart with thee
Suf. A Iewell lockt into the wofulst Caske,
That euer did containe a thing of worth,
Euen as a splitted Barke, so sunder we:
This way fall I to death
Qu. This way for me.
Enter the King, Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Cardinal in bed.
King. How fare's my Lord? Speake Beauford to thy
Ca. If thou beest death, Ile giue thee Englands Treasure,
Enough to purchase such another Island,
So thou wilt let me liue, and feele no paine
King. Ah, what a signe it is of euill life,
Where death's approach is seene so terrible
War. Beauford, it is thy Soueraigne speakes to thee
Beau. Bring me vnto my Triall when you will.
Dy'de he not in his bed? Where should he dye?
Can I make men liue where they will or no?
Oh torture me no more, I will confesse.
Aliue againe? Then shew me where he is,
Ile giue a thousand pound to looke vpon him.
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.
Combe downe his haire; looke, looke, it stands vpright,
Like Lime-twigs set to catch my winged soule:
Giue me some drinke, and bid the Apothecarie
Bring the strong poyson that I bought of him
King. Oh thou eternall mouer of the heauens,
Looke with a gentle eye vpon this Wretch,
Oh beate away the busie medling Fiend,
That layes strong siege vnto this wretches soule,
And from his bosome purge this blacke dispaire
War. See how the pangs of death do make him grin
Sal. Disturbe him not, let him passe peaceably
King. Peace to his soule, if Gods good pleasure be.
Lord Card'nall, if thou think'st on heauens blisse,
Hold vp thy hand, make signall of thy hope.
He dies and makes no signe: Oh God forgiue him
War. So bad a death, argues a monstrous life
King. Forbeare to iudge, for we are sinners all.
Close vp his eyes, and draw the Curtaine close,
And let vs all to Meditation.
Alarum. Fight at Sea. Ordnance goes off.
Enter Lieutenant, Suffolke, and others.
Lieu. The gaudy blabbing and remorsefull day,
Is crept into the bosome of the Sea:
And now loud houling Wolues arouse the Iades
That dragge the Tragicke melancholy night:
Who with their drowsie, slow, and flagging wings
Cleape dead-mens graues, and from their misty Iawes,
Breath foule contagious darknesse in the ayre:
Therefore bring forth the Souldiers of our prize,
For whilst our Pinnace Anchors in the Downes,
Heere shall they make their ransome on the sand,
Or with their blood staine this discoloured shore.
Maister, this Prisoner freely giue I thee,
And thou that art his Mate, make boote of this:
The other Walter Whitmore is thy share
1.Gent. What is my ransome Master, let me know
Ma. A thousand Crownes, or else lay down your head
Mate. And so much shall you giue, or off goes yours
Lieu. What thinke you much to pay 2000. Crownes,
And beare the name and port of Gentlemen?
Cut both the Villaines throats, for dy you shall:
The liues of those which we haue lost in fight,
Be counter-poys'd with such a pettie summe
1.Gent. Ile giue it sir, and therefore spare my life
2.Gent. And so will I, and write home for it straight
Whitm. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboord,
And therefore to reuenge it, shalt thou dye,
And so should these, if I might haue my will
Lieu. Be not so rash, take ransome, let him liue
Suf. Looke on my George, I am a Gentleman,
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be payed
Whit. And so am I: my name is Walter Whitmore.
How now? why starts thou? What doth death affright?
Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death:
A cunning man did calculate my birth,
And told me that by Water I should dye:
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded,
Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded
Whit. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not,
Neuer yet did base dishonour blurre our name,
But with our sword we wip'd away the blot.
Therefore, when Merchant-like I sell reuenge,
Broke be my sword, my Armes torne and defac'd,
And I proclaim'd a Coward through the world
Suf. Stay Whitmore, for thy Prisoner is a Prince,
The Duke of Suffolke, William de la Pole
Whit. The Duke of Suffolke, muffled vp in ragges?
Suf. I, but these ragges are no part of the Duke
Lieu. But Ioue was neuer slaine as thou shalt be,
Obscure and lowsie Swaine, King Henries blood
Suf. The honourable blood of Lancaster
Must not be shed by such a iaded Groome:
Hast thou not kist thy hand, and held my stirrop?
Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth Mule,
And thought thee happy when I shooke my head.
How often hast thou waited at my cup,
Fed from my Trencher, kneel'd downe at the boord,
When I haue feasted with Queene Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee Crest-falne,
I, and alay this thy abortiue Pride:
How in our voyding Lobby hast thou stood,
And duly wayted for my comming forth?
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalfe,
And therefore shall it charme thy riotous tongue
Whit. Speak Captaine, shall I stab the forlorn Swain
Lieu. First let my words stab him, as he hath me
Suf. Base slaue, thy words are blunt, and so art thou
Lieu. Conuey him hence, and on our long boats side,
Strike off his head
Suf. Thou dar'st not for thy owne
Lieu. Poole, Sir Poole? Lord,
I kennell, puddle, sinke, whose filth and dirt
Troubles the siluer Spring, where England drinkes:
Now will I dam vp this thy yawning mouth,
For swallowing the Treasure of the Realme.
Thy lips that kist the Queene, shall sweepe the ground:
And thou that smil'dst at good Duke Humfries death,
Against the senselesse windes shall grin in vaine,
Who in contempt shall hisse at thee againe.
And wedded be thou to the Hagges of hell,
For daring to affye a mighty Lord
Vnto the daughter of a worthlesse King,
Hauing neyther Subiect, Wealth, nor Diadem:
By diuellish policy art thou growne great,
And like ambitious Sylla ouer-gorg'd,
With gobbets of thy Mother-bleeding heart.
By thee Aniou and Maine were sold to France.
The false reuolting Normans thorough thee,
Disdaine to call vs Lord, and Piccardie
Hath slaine their Gouernors, surpriz'd our Forts,
And sent the ragged Souldiers wounded home.
The Princely Warwicke, and the Neuils all,
Whose dreadfull swords were neuer drawne in vaine,
As hating thee, and rising vp in armes.
And now the House of Yorke thrust from the Crowne,
By shamefull murther of a guiltlesse King,
And lofty proud incroaching tyranny,
Burnes with reuenging fire, whose hopefull colours
Aduance our halfe-fac'd Sunne, striuing to shine;
Vnder the which is writ, Inuitis nubibus.
The Commons heere in Kent are vp in armes,
And to conclude, Reproach and Beggerie,
Is crept into the Pallace of our King,
And all by thee: away, conuey him hence
Suf. O that I were a God, to shoot forth Thunder
Vpon these paltry, seruile, abiect Drudges:
Small things make base men proud. This Villaine heere,
Being Captaine of a Pinnace, threatens more
Then Bargulus the strong Illyrian Pyrate.
Drones sucke not Eagles blood, but rob Bee-hiues:
It is impossible that I should dye
By such a lowly Vassall as thy selfe.
Thy words moue Rage, and not remorse in me:
I go of Message from the Queene to France:
I charge thee waft me safely crosse the Channell
W. Come Suffolke, I must waft thee
to thy death
Suf. Pine gelidus timor occupat artus, it is thee I feare
Wal. Thou shalt haue cause to feare before I leaue thee.
What, are ye danted now? Now will ye stoope
1.Gent. My gracious Lord intreat him, speak him fair
Suf. Suffolkes Imperiall tongue is sterne and rough:
Vs'd to command, vntaught to pleade for fauour.
Farre be it, we should honor such as these
With humble suite: no, rather let my head
Stoope to the blocke, then these knees bow to any,
Saue to the God of heauen, and to my King:
And sooner dance vpon a bloody pole,
Then stand vncouer'd to the Vulgar Groome.
True Nobility, is exempt from feare:
More can I beare, then you dare execute
Lieu. Hale him away, and let him talke no more:
Come Souldiers, shew what cruelty ye can
Suf. That this my death may neuer be forgot.
Great men oft dye by vilde Bezonions.
A Romane Sworder, and Bandetto slaue
Murder'd sweet Tully. Brutus Bastard hand
Stab'd Iulius Cæsar. Sauage Islanders
Pompey the Great, and Suffolke dyes by Pyrats.
Exit Water with Suffolke.
Lieu. And as for these whose ransome we haue set,
It is our pleasure one of them depart:
Therefore come you with vs, and let him go.
Exit Lieutenant, and the rest.
Manet the first Gent. Enter Walter with the body.
Wal. There let his head, and liuelesse bodie lye,
Vntill the Queene his Mistris bury it.
1.Gent. O barbarous and bloudy spectacle,
His body will I beare vnto the King:
If he reuenge it not, yet will his Friends,
So will the Queene, that liuing, held him deere.
Enter Beuis, and Iohn Holland.
Beuis. Come and get thee a sword, though made of a
Lath, they haue bene vp these two dayes
Hol. They haue the more neede to sleepe now then
Beuis. I tell thee, Iacke Cade the Cloathier, meanes to
dresse the Common-wealth and turne it, and set a new
nap vpon it
Hol. So he had need, for 'tis thred-bare. Well, I say,
it was neuer merrie world in England, since Gentlemen
Beuis. O miserable Age: Vertue is not regarded in
Hol. The Nobilitie thinke scorne to goe in Leather
Beuis. Nay more, the Kings Councell are no good
Hol. 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
Beuis. Thou hast hit it: for there's no better signe of a
braue minde, then a hard hand
Hol. I see them, I see them: There's Bests Sonne, the
Tanner of Wingham
Beuis. Hee shall haue the skinnes of our enemies, to
make Dogges Leather of
Hol. And Dicke the Butcher
Beuis. Then is sin strucke downe like an Oxe, and iniquities
throate cut like a Calfe
Hol. And Smith the Weauer
Beu. Argo, their thred of life is spun
Hol. Come, come, let's fall in with them.
Drumme. Enter Cade, Dicke Butcher, Smith the Weauer, and a
Cade. Wee Iohn Cade, so tearm'd of our supposed Father
But. Or rather of stealing a Cade of Herrings
Cade. For our enemies shall faile before vs, inspired
with the spirit of putting down Kings and Princes. Command
Cade. My Father was a Mortimer
But. He was an honest man, and a good Bricklayer
Cade. My mother a Plantagenet
Butch. I knew her well, she was a Midwife
Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies
But. She was indeed a Pedlers daughter, & sold many
Weauer. But now of late, not able to trauell with her
furr'd Packe, she washes buckes here at home
Cade. Therefore am I of an honorable house
But. I by my faith, the field is honourable, and there
was he borne, vnder a hedge: for his Father had neuer a
house but the Cage
Cade. Valiant I am
Weauer. A must needs, for beggery is valiant
Cade. I am able to endure much
But. No question of that: for I haue seene him whipt
three Market dayes together
Cade. I feare neither sword, nor fire
Wea. He neede not feare the sword, for his Coate is of
But. But me thinks he should stand in feare of fire, being
burnt i'th hand for stealing of Sheepe
Cade. Be braue then, for your Captaine is Braue, and
Vowes Reformation. There shall be in England, seuen
halfe peny Loaues sold for a peny: the three hoop'd pot,
shall haue ten hoopes, and I wil make it Fellony to drink
small Beere. All the Realme shall be in Common, and in
Cheapside shall my Palfrey go to grasse: and when I am
King, as King I will be
All. God saue your Maiesty
Cade. I thanke you good people. There shall bee no
mony, all shall eate and drinke on my score, and I will
apparrell them all in one Liuery, that they may agree like
Brothers, and worship me their Lord
But. The first thing we do, let's kill all the Lawyers
Cade. Nay, that I meane to do. Is not this a lamentable
thing, that of the skin of an innocent Lambe should
be made Parchment; that Parchment being scribeld ore,
should vndoe a man. Some say the Bee stings, but I say,
'tis the Bees waxe: for I did but seale once to a thing, and
I was neuer mine owne man since. How now? Who's
Enter a Clearke.
Weauer. The Clearke of Chartam: hee can write and
reade, and cast accompt
Cade. O monstrous
Wea. We tooke him setting of boyes Copies
Cade. Here's a Villaine
Wea. Ha's a Booke in his pocket with red Letters in't
Cade. Nay then he is a Coniurer
But. Nay, he can make Obligations, and write Court
Cade. I am sorry for't: The man is a proper man of
mine Honour: vnlesse I finde him guilty he shall not die.
Come hither sirrah, I must examine thee: What is thy
But. They vse to writ it on the top of Letters: 'Twill
go hard with you
Cade. Let me alone: Dost thou vse to write thy name?
Or hast thou a marke to thy selfe, like a honest plain dealing
Clearke. Sir I thanke God, I haue bin so well brought
vp, that I can write my name
All. He hath confest: away with him: he's a Villaine
and a Traitor
Cade. Away with him I say: Hang him with his Pen
and Inke-horne about his necke.
Exit one with the Clearke
Mich. Where's our Generall?
Cade. Heere I am thou particular fellow
Mich. Fly, fly, fly, Sir Humfrey Stafford and his brother
are hard by, with the Kings Forces
Cade. Stand villaine, stand, or Ile fell thee downe: he
shall be encountred with a man as good as himselfe. He
is but a Knight, is a?
Cade. To equall him I will make my selfe a knight, presently;
Rise vp Sir Iohn Mortimer. Now haue at him.
Enter Sir Humfrey Stafford, and his Brother, with Drum and
Staf. Rebellious Hinds, the filth and scum of Kent,
Mark'd for the Gallowes: Lay your Weapons downe,
Home to your Cottages: forsake this Groome.
The King is mercifull, if you reuolt
Bro. But angry, wrathfull, and inclin'd to blood,
If you go forward: therefore yeeld, or dye
Cade. As for these silken-coated slaues I passe not,
It is to you good people, that I speake,
Ouer whom (in time to come) I hope to raigne:
For I am rightfull heyre vnto the Crowne
Staff. Villaine, thy Father was a Playsterer,
And thou thy selfe a Sheareman, art thou not?
Cade. And Adam was a Gardiner
Bro. And what of that?
Cade. Marry, this Edmund Mortimer Earle of March,
married the Duke of Clarence daughter, did he not?
Staf. I sir
Cade. By her he had two children at one birth
Bro. That's false
Cade. I, there's the question; But I say, 'tis true:
The elder of them being put to nurse,
Was by a begger-woman stolne away,
And ignorant of his birth and parentage,
Became a Bricklayer, when he came to age.
His sonne am I, deny it if you can
But. Nay, 'tis too true, therefore he shall be King
Wea. Sir, he made a Chimney in my Fathers house, &
the brickes are aliue at this day to testifie it: therefore
deny it not
Staf. And will you credit this base Drudges Wordes,
that speakes he knowes not what
All. I marry will we: therefore get ye gone
Bro. Iacke Cade, the D[uke]. of York hath taught you this
Cade. He lyes, for I inuented it my selfe. Go too Sirrah,
tell the King from me, that for his Fathers sake Henry
the fift, (in whose time, boyes went to Span-counter
for French Crownes) I am content he shall raigne, but Ile
be Protector ouer him
Butcher. And furthermore, wee'l haue the Lord Sayes
head, for selling the Dukedome of Maine
Cade And good reason: for thereby is England main'd
And faine to go with a staffe, but that my puissance holds
it vp. Fellow-Kings, I tell you, that that Lord Say hath
gelded the Commonwealth, and made it an Eunuch: &
more then that, he can speake French, and therefore hee is
Staf. O grosse and miserable ignorance
Cade. Nay answer if you can: The Frenchmen are our
enemies: go too then, I ask but this: Can he that speaks
with the tongue of an enemy, be a good Councellour, or
All. No, no, and therefore wee'l haue his head
Bro. Well, seeing gentle words will not preuayle,
Assaile them with the Army of the King
Staf. Herald away, and throughout euery Towne,
Proclaime them Traitors that are vp with Cade,
That those which flye before the battell ends,
May euen in their Wiues and Childrens sight,
Be hang'd vp for example at their doores:
And you that be the Kings Friends follow me.
Cade. And you that loue the Commons, follow me:
Now shew your selues men, 'tis for Liberty.
We will not leaue one Lord, one Gentleman:
Spare none, but such as go in clouted shooen,
For they are thrifty honest men, and such
As would (but that they dare not) take our parts
But. They are all in order, and march toward vs
Cade. But then are we in order, when we are most out
of order. Come, march forward.
Alarums to the fight, wherein both the Staffords are slaine. Enter
and the rest.
Cade. Where's Dicke, the Butcher of Ashford?
But. Heere sir
Cade. They fell before thee like Sheepe and Oxen, &
thou behaued'st thy selfe, as if thou hadst beene in thine
owne Slaughter-house: Therfore thus will I reward thee,
the Lent shall bee as long againe as it is, and thou shalt
haue a License to kill for a hundred lacking one
But. I desire no more
Cade. And to speake truth, thou deseru'st no lesse.
This Monument of the victory will I beare, and the bodies
shall be dragg'd at my horse heeles, till I do come to
London, where we will haue the Maiors sword born before
But. If we meane to thriue, and do good, breake open
the Gaoles, and let out the Prisoners
Cade. Feare not that I warrant thee. Come, let's march
Enter the King with a Supplication, and the Queene with Suffolkes
the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Say.
Queene. Oft haue I heard that greefe softens the mind,
And makes it fearefull and degenerate,
Thinke therefore on reuenge, and cease to weepe.
But who can cease to weepe, and looke on this.
Heere may his head lye on my throbbing brest:
But where's the body that I should imbrace?
Buc. What answer makes your Grace to the Rebells
King. Ile send some holy Bishop to intreat:
For God forbid, so many simple soules
Should perish by the Sword. And I my selfe,
Rather then bloody Warre shall cut them short,
Will parley with Iacke Cade their Generall.
But stay, Ile read it ouer once againe
Qu. Ah barbarous villaines: Hath this louely face,
Rul'd like a wandering Plannet ouer me,
And could it not inforce them to relent,
That were vnworthy to behold the same
King. Lord Say, Iacke Cade hath sworne to haue thy
Say. I, but I hope your Highnesse shall haue his
King. How now Madam?
Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolkes death?
I feare me (Loue) if that I had beene dead,
Thou would'st not haue mourn'd so much for me
Qu. No my Loue, I should not mourne, but dye for
Enter a Messenger.
King. How now? What newes? Why com'st thou in
Mes. The Rebels are in Southwarke: Fly my Lord:
Iacke Cade proclaimes himselfe Lord Mortimer,
Descended from the Duke of Clarence house,
And calles your Grace Vsurper, openly,
And vowes to Crowne himselfe in Westminster.
His Army is a ragged multitude
Of Hindes and Pezants, rude and mercilesse:
Sir Humfrey Stafford, and his Brothers death,
Hath giuen them heart and courage to proceede:
All Schollers, Lawyers, Courtiers, Gentlemen,
They call false Catterpillers, and intend their death
Kin. Oh gracelesse men: they know not what they do
Buck. My gracious Lord, retire to Killingworth,
Vntill a power be rais'd to put them downe
Qu. Ah were the Duke of Suffolke now aliue,
These Kentish Rebels would be soone appeas'd
King. Lord Say, the Traitors hateth thee,
Therefore away with vs to Killingworth
Say. So might your Graces person be in danger.
The sight of me is odious in their eyes:
And therefore in this Citty will I stay,
And liue alone as secret as I may.
Enter another Messenger.
Mess. Iacke Cade hath gotten London-bridge.
The Citizens flye and forsake their houses:
The Rascall people, thirsting after prey,
Ioyne with the Traitor, and they ioyntly sweare
To spoyle the City, and your Royall Court
Buc. Then linger not my Lord, away, take horse
King. Come Margaret, God our hope will succor vs
Qu. My hope is gone, now Suffolke is deceast
King. Farewell my Lord, trust not the Kentish Rebels
Buc. Trust no body for feare you betraid
Say. The trust I haue, is in mine innocence,
And therefore am I bold and resolute.
Enter Lord Scales vpon the Tower walking. Then enters two or
Scales. How now? Is Iacke Cade slaine?
1.Cit. No my Lord, nor likely to be slaine:
For they haue wonne the Bridge,
Killing all those that withstand them:
The L[ord]. Maior craues ayd of your Honor from the Tower
To defend the City from the Rebels
Scales. Such ayd as I can spare you shall command,
But I am troubled heere with them my selfe,
The Rebels haue assay'd to win the Tower.
But get you to Smithfield, and gather head,
And thither I will send you Mathew Goffe.
Fight for your King, your Countrey, and your Liues,
And so farwell, for I must hence againe.
Enter Iacke Cade and the rest, and strikes his staffe on London
Cade. Now is Mortimer Lord of this City,
And heere sitting vpon London Stone,
I charge and command, that of the Cities cost
The pissing Conduit run nothing but Clarret Wine
This first yeare of our raigne.
And now henceforward it shall be Treason for any,
That calles me other then Lord Mortimer.
Enter a Soldier running.
Soul. Iacke Cade, Iacke Cade
Cade. Knocke him downe there.
They kill him.
But. If this Fellow be wise, hee'l neuer call yee Iacke
Cade more, I thinke he hath a very faire warning
Dicke. My Lord, there's an Army gathered together
Cade. Come, then let's go fight with them:
But first, go and set London Bridge on fire,
And if you can, burne downe the Tower too.
Come, let's away.
Alarums. Mathew Goffe is slain, and all the rest. Then enter Iacke
with his Company.
Cade. So sirs: now go some and pull down the Sauoy:
Others to'th Innes of Court, downe with them all
But. I haue a suite vnto your Lordship
Cade. Bee it a Lordshippe, thou shalt haue it for that
But. Onely that the Lawes of England may come out
of your mouth
Iohn. Masse 'twill be sore Law then, for he was thrust
in the mouth with a Speare, and 'tis not whole yet
Smith. Nay Iohn, it wil be stinking Law, for his breath
stinkes with eating toasted cheese
Cade. I haue thought vpon it, it shall bee so. Away,
burne all the Records of the Realme, my mouth shall be
the Parliament of England
Iohn. Then we are like to haue biting Statutes
Vnlesse his teeth be pull'd out
Cade. And hence-forward all things shall be in Common.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. My Lord, a prize, a prize, heeres the Lord Say,
which sold the Townes in France. He that made vs pay
one and twenty Fifteenes, and one shilling to the pound,
the last Subsidie.
Enter George, with the Lord Say.
Cade. Well, hee shall be beheaded for it ten times:
Ah thou Say, thou Surge, nay thou Buckram Lord, now
art thou within point-blanke of our Iurisdiction Regall.
What canst thou answer to my Maiesty, for giuing vp of
Normandie vnto Mounsieur Basimecu, the Dolphine of
France? Be it knowne vnto thee by these presence, euen
the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the Beesome
that must sweepe the Court cleane of such filth as thou
art: Thou hast most traiterously corrupted the youth of
the Realme, in erecting a Grammar Schoole: and whereas
before, our Fore-fathers had no other Bookes but the
Score and the Tally, thou hast caused printing to be vs'd,
and contrary to the King, his Crowne, and Dignity, thou
hast built a Paper-Mill. It will be prooued to thy Face,
that thou hast men about thee, that vsually talke of a
Nowne and a Verbe, and such abhominable wordes, as
no Christian eare can endure to heare. Thou hast appointed
Iustices of Peace, to call poore men before them, about
matters they were not able to answer. Moreouer,
thou hast put them in prison, and because they could not
reade, thou hast hang'd them, when (indeede) onely for
that cause they haue beene most worthy to liue. Thou
dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost thou not?
Say. What of that?
Cade. Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horse weare
a Cloake, when honester men then thou go in their Hose
Dicke. And worke in their shirt to, as my selfe for example,
that am a butcher
Say. You men of Kent
Dic. What say you of Kent
Say. Nothing but this: 'Tis bona terra, mala gens
Cade. Away with him, away with him, he speaks Latine
Say. Heare me but speake, and beare mee wher'e you
Kent, in the Commentaries Cæsar writ,
Is term'd the ciuel'st place of all this Isle:
Sweet is the Country, because full of Riches,
The People Liberall, Valiant, Actiue, Wealthy,
Which makes me hope you are not void of pitty.
I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandie,
Yet to recouer them would loose my life:
Iustice with fauour haue I alwayes done,
Prayres and Teares haue mou'd me, Gifts could neuer.
When haue I ought exacted at your hands?
Kent to maintaine, the King, the Realme and you,
Large gifts haue I bestow'd on learned Clearkes,
Because my Booke preferr'd me to the King.
And seeing Ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the Wing wherewith we flye to heauen.
Vnlesse you be possest with diuellish spirits,
You cannot but forbeare to murther me:
This Tongue hath parlied vnto Forraigne Kings
For your behoofe
Cade. Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field?
Say. Great men haue reaching hands: oft haue I struck
Those that I neuer saw, and strucke them dead
Geo. O monstrous Coward! What, to come behinde
Say. These cheekes are pale for watching for your good
Cade. Giue him a box o'th' eare, and that wil make 'em
Say. Long sitting to determine poore mens causes,
Hath made me full of sicknesse and diseases
Cade. Ye shall haue a hempen Candle then, & the help
Dicke. Why dost thou quiuer man?
Say. The Palsie, and not feare prouokes me
Cade. Nay, he noddes at vs, as who should say, Ile be
euen with you. Ile see if his head will stand steddier on
a pole, or no: Take him away, and behead him
Say. Tell me: wherein haue I offended most?
Haue I affected wealth, or honor? Speake.
Are my Chests fill'd vp with extorted Gold?
Is my Apparrell sumptuous to behold?
Whom haue I iniur'd, that ye seeke my death?
These hands are free from guiltlesse bloodshedding,
This breast from harbouring foule deceitfull thoughts.
O let me liue
Cade. I feele remorse in my selfe with his words: but
Ile bridle it: he shall dye, and it bee but for pleading so
well for his life. Away with him, he ha's a Familiar vnder
his Tongue, he speakes not a Gods name. Goe, take
him away I say, and strike off his head presently, and then
breake into his Sonne in Lawes house, Sir Iames Cromer,
and strike off his head, and bring them both vppon two
All. It shall be done
Say. Ah Countrimen: If when you make your prair's,
God should be so obdurate as your selues:
How would it fare with your departed soules,
And therefore yet relent, and saue my life
Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye: the
proudest Peere in the Realme, shall not weare a head on
his shoulders, vnlesse he pay me tribute: there shall not
a maid be married, but she shall pay to me her Maydenhead
ere they haue it: Men shall hold of mee in Capite.
And we charge and command, that their wiues be as free
as heart can wish, or tongue can tell
Dicke. My Lord,
When shall we go to Cheapside, and take vp commodities
vpon our billes?
Cade. Marry presently
All. O braue.
Enter one with the heads.
Cade. But is not this brauer:
Let them kisse one another: For they lou'd well
When they were aliue. Now part them againe,
Least they consult about the giuing vp
Of some more Townes in France. Soldiers,
Deferre the spoile of the Citie vntill night:
For with these borne before vs, in steed of Maces,
Will we ride through the streets, & at euery Corner
Haue them kisse. Away.
Alarum, and Retreat. Enter againe Cade, and all his rabblement.
Cade. Vp Fish-streete, downe Saint Magnes corner,
kill and knocke downe, throw them into Thames:
Sound a parley.
What noise is this I heare?
Dare any be so bold to sound Retreat or Parley
When I command them kill?
Enter Buckingham, and old Clifford.
Buc. I heere they be, that dare and will disturb thee:
Know Cade, we come Ambassadors from the King
Vnto the Commons, whom thou hast misled,
And heere pronounce free pardon to them all,
That will forsake thee, and go home in peace
Clif. What say ye Countrimen, will ye relent
And yeeld to mercy, whil'st 'tis offered you,
Or let a rabble leade you to your deaths.
Who loues the King, and will imbrace his pardon,
Fling vp his cap, and say, God saue his Maiesty.
Who hateth him, and honors not his Father,
Henry the fift, that made all France to quake,
Shake he his weapon at vs, and passe by
All. God saue the King, God saue the King
Cade. What Buckingham and Clifford are ye so braue?
And you base Pezants, do ye beleeue him, will you needs
be hang'd with your Pardons about your neckes? Hath
my sword therefore broke through London gates, that
you should leaue me at the White-heart in Southwarke.
I thought ye would neuer haue giuen out these Armes til
you had recouered your ancient Freedome. But you are
all Recreants and Dastards, and delight to liue in slauerie
to the Nobility. Let them breake your backes with burthens,
take your houses ouer your heads, rauish your
Wiues and Daughters before your faces. For me, I will
make shift for one, and so Gods Cursse light vppon you
All. Wee'l follow Cade,
Wee'l follow Cade
Clif. Is Cade the sonne of Henry the fift,
That thus you do exclaime you'l go with him.
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meanest of you Earles and Dukes?
Alas, he hath no home, no place to flye too:
Nor knowes he how to liue, but by the spoile,
Vnlesse by robbing of your Friends, and vs.
Wer't not a shame, that whilst you liue at iarre,
The fearfull French, whom you late vanquished
Should make a start ore-seas, and vanquish you?
Me thinkes alreadie in this ciuill broyle,
I see them Lording it in London streets,
Crying Villiago vnto all they meete.
Better ten thousand base-borne Cades miscarry,
Then you should stoope vnto a Frenchmans mercy.
To France, to France, and get what you haue lost:
Spare England, for it is your Natiue Coast:
Henry hath mony, you are strong and manly:
God on our side, doubt not of Victorie
All. A Clifford, a Clifford,
Wee'l follow the King, and Clifford
Cade. Was euer Feather so lightly blowne too & fro,
as this multitude? The name of Henry the fift, hales them
to an hundred mischiefes, and makes them leaue mee desolate.
I see them lay their heades together to surprize
me. My sword make way for me, for heere is no staying:
in despight of the diuels and hell, haue through the verie
middest of you, and heauens and honor be witnesse, that
no want of resolution in mee, but onely my Followers
base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake mee to
Buck. What, is he fled? Go some and follow him,
And he that brings his head vnto the King,
Shall haue a thousand Crownes for his reward.
Exeunt. some of them.
Follow me souldiers, wee'l deuise a meane,
To reconcile you all vnto the King.
Sound Trumpets. Enter King, Queene, and Somerset on the Tarras.
King. Was euer King that ioy'd an earthly Throne,
And could command no more content then I?
No sooner was I crept out of my Cradle,
But I was made a King, at nine months olde.
Was neuer Subiect long'd to be a King,
As I do long and wish to be a Subiect.
Enter Buckingham and Clifford.
Buc. Health and glad tydings to your Maiesty
Kin. Why Buckingham, is the Traitor Cade surpris'd?
Or is he but retir'd to make him strong?
Enter Multitudes with Halters about their Neckes
Clif. He is fled my Lord, and all his powers do yeeld,
And humbly thus with halters on their neckes,
Expect your Highnesse doome of life, or death
King. Then heauen set ope thy euerlasting gates,
To entertaine my vowes of thankes and praise.
Souldiers, this day haue you redeem'd your liues,
And shew'd how well you loue your Prince & Countrey:
Continue still in this so good a minde,
And Henry though he be infortunate,
Assure your selues will neuer be vnkinde:
And so with thankes, and pardon to you all,
I do dismisse you to your seuerall Countries
All. God saue the King, God saue the King.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Please it your Grace to be aduertised,
The Duke of Yorke is newly come from Ireland,
And with a puissant and a mighty power
Of Gallow-glasses and stout Kernes,
Is marching hitherward in proud array,
And still proclaimeth as he comes along,
His Armes are onely to remoue from thee
The Duke of Somerset, whom he tearmes a Traitor
King. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and Yorke
Like to a Ship, that hauing scap'd a Tempest,
Is straight way calme, and boorded with a Pyrate.
But now is Cade driuen backe, his men dispierc'd,
And now is Yorke in Armes, to second him.
I pray thee Buckingham go and meete him,
And aske him what's the reason of these Armes:
Tell him, Ile send Duke Edmund to the Tower,
And Somerset we will commit thee thither,
Vntill his Army be dismist from him
Somerset. My Lord,
Ile yeelde my selfe to prison willingly,
Or vnto death, to do my Countrey good
King. In any case, be not to rough in termes,
For he is fierce, and cannot brooke hard Language
Buc. I will my Lord, and doubt not so to deale,
As all things shall redound vnto your good
King. Come wife, let's in, and learne to gouern better,
For yet may England curse my wretched raigne.
Cade. Fye on Ambitions: fie on my selfe, that haue a
sword, and yet am ready to famish. These fiue daies haue
I hid me in these Woods, and durst not peepe out, for all
the Country is laid for me: but now am I so hungry, that
if I might haue a Lease of my life for a thousand yeares, I
could stay no longer. Wherefore on a Bricke wall haue
I climb'd into this Garden, to see if I can eate Grasse, or
picke a Sallet another while, which is not amisse to coole
a mans stomacke this hot weather: and I think this word
Sallet was borne to do me good: for many a time but for
a Sallet, my brain-pan had bene cleft with a brown Bill;
and many a time when I haue beene dry, & brauely marching,
it hath seru'd me insteede of a quart pot to drinke
in: and now the word Sallet must serue me to feed on.
Iden. Lord, who would liue turmoyled in the Court,
And may enioy such quiet walkes as these?
This small inheritance my Father left me,
Contenteth me, and worth a Monarchy.
I seeke not to waxe great by others warning,
Or gather wealth I care not with what enuy:
Sufficeth, that I haue maintaines my state,
And sends the poore well pleased from my gate
Cade. Heere's the Lord of the soile come to seize me
for a stray, for entering his Fee-simple without leaue. A
Villaine, thou wilt betray me, and get a 1000. Crownes
of the King by carrying my head to him, but Ile make
thee eate Iron like an Ostridge, and swallow my Sword
like a great pin ere thou and I part
Iden. Why rude Companion, whatsoere thou be,
I know thee not, why then should I betray thee?
Is't not enough to breake into my Garden,
And like a Theefe to come to rob my grounds:
Climbing my walles inspight of me the Owner,
But thou wilt braue me with these sawcie termes?
Cade. Braue thee? I by the best blood that euer was
broach'd, and beard thee to. Looke on mee well, I haue
eate no meate these fiue dayes, yet come thou and thy
fiue men, and if I doe not leaue you all as dead as a doore
naile, I pray God I may neuer eate grasse more
Iden. Nay, it shall nere be said, while England stands,
That Alexander Iden an Esquire of Kent,
Tooke oddes to combate a poore famisht man.
Oppose thy stedfast gazing eyes to mine,
See if thou canst out-face me with thy lookes:
Set limbe to limbe, and thou art farre the lesser:
Thy hand is but a finger to my fist,
Thy legge a sticke compared with this Truncheon,
My foote shall fight with all the strength thou hast,
And if mine arme be heaued in the Ayre,
Thy graue is digg'd already in the earth:
As for words, whose greatnesse answer's words,
Let this my sword report what speech forbeares
Cade. By my Valour: the most compleate Champion
that euer I heard. Steele, if thou turne the edge, or
cut not out the burly bon'd Clowne in chines of Beefe,
ere thou sleepe in thy Sheath, I beseech Ioue on my knees
thou mayst be turn'd to Hobnailes.
Heere they Fight.
O I am slaine, Famine and no other hath slaine me, let ten
thousand diuelles come against me, and giue me but the
ten meales I haue lost, and I'de defie them all. Wither
Garden, and be henceforth a burying place to all that do
dwell in this house, because the vnconquered soule of
Cade is fled
Iden. Is't Cade that I haue slain, that monstrous traitor?
Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deede,
And hang thee o're my Tombe, when I am dead.
Ne're shall this blood be wiped from thy point,
But thou shalt weare it as a Heralds coate,
To emblaze the Honor that thy Master got
Cade. Iden farewell, and be proud of thy victory: Tell
Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort all
the World to be Cowards: For I that neuer feared any,
am vanquished by Famine, not by Valour.
Id. How much thou wrong'st me, heauen be my iudge;
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 soule to hell.
Hence will I dragge thee headlong by the heeles
Vnto a dunghill, which shall be thy graue,
And there cut off thy most vngracious head,
Which I will beare in triumph to the King,
Leauing thy trunke for Crowes to feed vpon.
Enter Yorke, and his Army of Irish, with Drum and Colours.
Yor. From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right,
And plucke the Crowne from feeble Henries head.
Ring Belles alowd, burne Bonfires cleare and bright
To entertaine great Englands lawfull King.
Ah Sancta Maiestas! who would not buy thee deere?
Let them obey, that knowes not how to Rule.
This hand was made to handle nought but Gold.
I cannot giue due action to my words,
Except a Sword or Scepter ballance it.
A Scepter shall it haue, haue I a soule,
On which Ile tosse the Fleure-de-Luce of France.
Whom haue we heere? Buckingham to disturbe me?
The king hath sent him sure: I must dissemble
Buc. Yorke, if thou meanest wel, I greet thee well
Yor. Humfrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting.
Art thou a Messenger, or come of pleasure
Buc. A Messenger from Henry, our dread Liege,
To know the reason of these Armes in peace.
Or why, thou being a Subiect, as I am,
Against thy Oath, and true Allegeance sworne,
Should raise so great a power without his leaue?
Or dare to bring thy Force so neere the Court?
Yor. Scarse can I speake, my Choller is so great.
Oh I could hew vp Rockes, and fight with Flint,
I am so angry at these abiect tearmes.
And now like Aiax Telamonius,
On Sheepe or Oxen could I spend my furie.
I am farre better borne then is the king:
More like a King, more Kingly in my thoughts.
But I must make faire weather yet a while,
Till Henry be more weake, and I more strong.
Buckingham, I prethee pardon me,
That I haue giuen no answer all this while:
My minde was troubled with deepe Melancholly.
The cause why I haue brought this Armie hither,
Is to remoue proud Somerset from the King,
Seditious to his Grace, and to the State
Buc. That is too much presumption on thy part:
But if thy Armes be to no other end,
The King hath yeelded vnto thy demand:
The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower
Yorke. Vpon thine Honor is he Prisoner?
Buck. Vpon mine Honor he is Prisoner
Yorke. Then Buckingham I do dismisse my Powres.
Souldiers, I thanke you all: disperse your selues:
Meet me to morrow in S[aint]. Georges Field,
You shall haue pay, and euery thing you wish.
And let my Soueraigne, vertuous Henry,
Command my eldest sonne, nay all my sonnes,
As pledges of my Fealtie and Loue,
Ile send them all as willing as I liue:
Lands, Goods, Horse, Armor, any thing I haue
Is his to vse, so Somerset may die
Buc. Yorke, I commend this kinde submission,
We twaine will go into his Highnesse Tent.
Enter King and Attendants.
King. Buckingham, doth Yorke intend no harme to vs
That thus he marcheth with thee arme in arme?
Yorke. In all submission and humility,
Yorke doth present himselfe vnto your Highnesse
K. Then what intends these Forces thou dost bring?
Yor. To heaue the Traitor Somerset from hence,
And fight against that monstrous Rebell Cade,
Who since I heard to be discomfited.
Enter Iden with Cades head.
Iden. If one so rude, and of so meane condition
May passe into the presence of a King:
Loe, I present your Grace a Traitors head,
The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew
King. The head of Cade? Great God, how iust art thou?
Oh let me view his Visage being dead,
That liuing wrought me such exceeding trouble.
Tell me my Friend, art thou the man that slew him?
Iden. I was, an't like your Maiesty
King. How art thou call'd? And what is thy degree?
Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name,
A poore Esquire of Kent, that loues his King
Buc. So please it you my Lord, 'twere not amisse
He were created Knight for his good seruice
King. Iden, kneele downe, rise vp a Knight:
We giue thee for reward a thousand Markes,
And will, that thou henceforth attend on vs
Iden. May Iden liue to merit such a bountie,
And neuer liue but true vnto his Liege.
Enter Queene and Somerset.
K. See Buckingham, Somerset comes with th' Queene,
Go bid her hide him quickly from the Duke
Qu. For thousand Yorkes he shall not hide his head,
But boldly stand, and front him to his face
Yor. How now? is Somerset at libertie?
Then Yorke vnloose thy long imprisoned thoughts,
And let thy tongue be equall with thy heart.
Shall I endure the sight of Somerset?
False King, why hast thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly I can brooke abuse?
King did I call thee? No: thou art not King:
Not fit to gouerne and rule multitudes,
Which dar'st not, no nor canst not rule a Traitor.
That Head of thine doth not become a Crowne:
Thy Hand is made to graspe a Palmers staffe,
And not to grace an awefull Princely Scepter.
That Gold, must round engirt these browes of mine,
Whose Smile and Frowne, like to Achilles Speare
Is able with the change, to kill and cure.
Heere is hand to hold a Scepter vp,
And with the same to acte controlling Lawes:
Giue place: by heauen thou shalt rule no more
O're him, whom heauen created for thy Ruler
Som. O monstrous Traitor! I arrest thee Yorke
Of Capitall Treason 'gainst the King and Crowne:
Obey audacious Traitor, kneele for Grace
York. Wold'st haue me kneele? First let me ask of thee,
If they can brooke I bow a knee to man:
Sirrah, call in my sonne to be my bale:
I know ere they will haue me go to Ward,
They'l pawne their swords of my infranchisement
Qu. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amaine,
To say, if that the Bastard boyes of Yorke
Shall be the Surety for their Traitor Father
Yorke. O blood-bespotted Neopolitan,
Out-cast of Naples, Englands bloody Scourge,
The sonnes of Yorke, thy betters in their birth,
Shall be their Fathers baile, and bane to those
That for my Surety will refuse the Boyes.
Enter Edward and Richard.
See where they come, Ile warrant they'l make it good.
Qu. And here comes Clifford to deny their baile
Clif. Health, and all happinesse to my Lord the King
Yor. I thanke thee Clifford: Say, what newes with thee?
Nay, do not fright vs with an angry looke:
We are thy Soueraigne Clifford, kneele againe;
For thy mistaking so, We pardon thee
Clif. This is my King Yorke, I do not mistake,
But thou mistakes me much to thinke I do,
To Bedlem with him, is the man growne mad
King. I Clifford, a Bedlem and ambitious humor
Makes him oppose himselfe against his King
Clif. He is a Traitor, let him to the Tower,
And chop away that factious pate of his
Qu. He is arrested, but will not obey:
His sonnes (he sayes) shall giue their words for him
Yor. Will you not Sonnes?
Edw. I Noble Father, if our words will serue
Rich. And if words will not, then our Weapons shal
Clif. Why what a brood of Traitors haue we heere?
Yorke. Looke in a Glasse, and call thy Image so.
I am thy King, and thou a false-heart Traitor:
Call hither to the stake my two braue Beares,
That with the very shaking of their Chaines,
They may astonish these fell-lurking Curres,
Bid Salsbury and Warwicke come to me.
Enter the Earles of Warwicke, and Salisbury.
Clif. Are these thy Beares? Wee'l bate thy Bears to death,
And manacle the Berard in their Chaines,
If thou dar'st bring them to the bayting place
Rich. Oft haue I seene a hot ore-weening Curre,
Run backe and bite, because he was with-held,
Who being suffer'd with the Beares fell paw,
Hath clapt his taile, betweene his legges and cride,
And such a peece of seruice will you do,
If you oppose your selues to match Lord Warwicke
Clif. Hence heape of wrath, foule indigested lumpe,
As crooked in thy manners, as thy shape
Yor. Nay we shall heate you thorowly anon
Clif. Take heede least by your heate you burne your
King. Why Warwicke, hath thy knee forgot to bow?
Old Salsbury, shame to thy siluer haire,
Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sicke sonne,
What wilt thou on thy death-bed play the Ruffian?
And seeke for sorrow with thy Spectacles?
Oh where is Faith? Oh, where is Loyalty?
If it be banisht from the frostie head,
Where shall it finde a harbour in the earth?
Wilt thou go digge a graue to finde out Warre,
And shame thine honourable Age with blood?
Why art thou old, and want'st experience?
Or wherefore doest abuse it, if thou hast it?
For shame in dutie bend thy knee to me,
That bowes vnto the graue with mickle age
Sal. My Lord, I haue considered with my selfe