Say. Nothing but this: 'Tis bona terra, mala gens. Cade. Away with him, away with him, he fpeaks Latin.

Say. Hear me but fpeak, and bear me where you will. Kent, in the commentaries Cæfar writ,

Is term'd the civil'ft place of all this ifle;
Sweet is the country, beauteous, full of riches;
The people liberal, valiant, active, worthy:
Which makes me hope thou art not void of pity.
I fold not Maine, I loft not Normandy;
Yet, to recover them, would lofe my life:
Juftice with favour have I always done;

Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never:
When have I aught exacted at your hands?
Kent 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 curfe of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heav'n,
Unless you be poffefs'd with dev'lish spirits,
Ye cannot but forbear to murder me.

This tongue hath parlied unto foreign Kings
For your behoof.

Cade. Tut, when struck'ft thou one blow in the field? Say. Great men have reaching hands; oft have I Thofe that I never faw, and ftruck them dead. [ftruck George. O monftrous coward! what, to come behind folks?

Say. These cheeks are pale with watching for your

good.

Cade. Give him a box o'th' ear, and that will make 'em red again.

Say. Long fitting to determine poor mens' caufes, Hath made me full of ficknefs and diseases.

Cade Ye fhall have a hempen caudle then, and the help of a hatchet.

Dick. Why doft thou quiver, man?

Say. The palfy, and not fear, provokes me.

Cade. Nay, he nods at us, as who fhould fay, I'll be even with you. I'll fee if his head will ftand fteadier on a pole or no: take him away, and behead him. Say. Tell me, wherein have I offended moft?

Have I affected wealth or honour? fpeak.
Are my chefts fill'd up with extorted gold?
Is my apparel fumptuous to behold?

Whom have I injur'd, that

ye

feek my death? Thefe hands are free from guiltlefs blood-fhedding, This breaft from harb'ring foul deceitful thoughts. O, let me live!

Go,

Cade. I feel remorfe in myfelf with his words; but I'll bridle it; he fhall die, an' it be but for pleading fo well for his life. Away with him, he has a familiar under his tongue, he speaks not o' God's name. take him away, I fay, and ftrike off his head prefently; and then break into his fon-in-law's house, Sir James Cromer, and ftrike off his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither.

All. It fhall be done.

you make

Say. Ah, countrymen, if when
God fhould be fo obdurate as yourselves,
How would it fare with your departed fouls?
And therefore yet relent, and fave my life.

your [prayers,

Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye. [Exeunt fome with Lord Say.] The proudeft Peer of the realm shall not wear a head on his fhoulders, unless he pay me tribute; there fhall not a maid be married, but the fhall pay 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 fhall we go to Cheapfide, and take up commodities upon our bills?

Cade. Marry, presently.

All. O brave!

Enter one with the heads.

Cade. But is not this braver? Let them kifs one another; for they lov'd well when they were alive. Now part them again, left they confult about the giving up of fome more towns in France. Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night; for with these borne before us, inftead of maces, will we ride through the treets, and at every corner have them kifs. Away.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE VII.

Changes to Southwark.

Alarum, and retreat.

Enter again Cade, and all his rabblement.

Cade. Up Fish-treet, down St. Magnus' corner, kill and knock down, throw them into Thames.

What noife is this I hear?

[A parley founded.

Dare any be fo bold to found retreat or parley,
When I command them kill?

Enter Buckingham and old Clifford, attended.

Buck. Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee. Know, Cade, we come ambaffadors from the King Unto the commons, whom thou haft mifled; And here pronounce free pardon to them all, That will forfake thee, and go home in peace. Clif. What fay ye, countrymen; will ye relent, And yield to mercy, whilft 'tis offer'd you, Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths? Who loves the King, and will embrace his pardon, Fling up his cap, and fay, God fave his Majfly! 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 fave the King! God fave the King!

Cade. What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye fo brave? and you, base peasants, do ye believe 'em? will you needs be hang'd with your pardons about your necks? hath my fword therefore broke through London gates, that you fhould leave me at the White-hart in Southwark? I thought you would never have given out these arms, till you had recovered your ancient freedom: but you are all recreants and daftards, and delight to live in flavery to the Nobility. Let them break your backs with burdens, take your houses over your heads, ravifh your wives and daughters before faces. your For me, I will make fhift for one, and fo God's curfe light upon you all!

All. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade.
Clif. Is Cade the fon of Henry the Fifth,

That

That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him?
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meaneft 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 fhame, that, whilft you live at jar,
The fearful French, whom you late vanquished,
Should make a ftart o'er feas, and vanquish you?
Methinks already in this civil broil

I fee them lording it in London streets,
Crying, Villageois! unto all they meet.
Better ten thousand bafe-born Cades mifcarry,
Than you
fhould ftoop unto a Frenchman's mercy.
To France! to France! and get what you
Spare England, for it is your native coast.
Henry hath mercy, you are ftrong and manly:
God on our fide, doubt not of victory.

have loft;

All. A Clifford a Clifford! we'll follow the King and Clifford.

Cade. Was ever feather fo 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 defolate. I fee them lay their heads together to surprise me. My fword make way for me, for here is no staying; in defpight of the devils and hell, have through the very midit of you; and heavens and honour be witness, that no want of refolution in me, but only my followers' bafe and ignominious treafons, make me betake me to my heels.

[Exit. Buck. What, is he fled? go fome, and follow him. And he that brings his head unto the King, Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward.

[Exeunt fome of them

Follow me, foldiers; we'll devife a mean

To reconcile you all unto the King.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE VIII. The palace at Killingworth.

Sound trumpets. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and Somerfet on the terrace.

K. Henry. Was ever King that 'joy'd an earthly throne,

VOL. V.

G

And

And could command no more content than I?
No fooner was I crept out of my cradle,
But I was made a King at nine months old:
Was never fubject long'd to be a King,
As I do long and with to be a fubject.

Enter Buckingham and Clifford.

Buck. Health and glad tidings to your Majefty! K. Henry. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade furOr is he but retir'd to make him ftrong?

[pris'd?

Enter multitudes with halters about their necks.

Clif. He's fled, my Lord, and all his pow'rs do yield; And humbly thus with halters on their necks Expect your Highnefs' doom of life or death.

K. Henry. Then, heav'n, fet ope thy everlasting gates,
To entertain my vows of thanks and praise.
Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives,
And fhew'd how well you love your prince and country;
Continue ftill in this fo good a mind,

And Henry, though he be unfortunate,
Affure yourselves, will never be unkind:
And fo with thanks and pardon to you all,
I do difmifs you to your feveral countries.
All. God fave the King! God fave the King!
Enter Meffenger.

Me. Please it your Grace to be advertised,
The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland;
And with a puiffant and mighty pow'r
Of defp'rate gallow-glaffes and ftout kerns,
Is marching hitherward in proud array;
And ftill proclaimeth, as he comes along,
His arms are only to remove from thee

The Duke of Somerfet, whom he terms a traitor.
K. Henry. Thus ftands my ftate 'twixt Cade and York
diftrefs'd;

Like to a fhip, that, having 'fcap'd a tempeft,
Is ftraitway claim'd and boarded with a pirate.
But now is Cade driv'n back, his men difpers'd;
And now is York in arms to fecond him.

I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet with him,

And