be hanged with your pardons about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southwark? I thought ye would never have given out these arms till you had recovered your ancient freedom: but you are all recreants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let them break your backs with burdens, take your houses over your heads, ravish your wives and daughters before your faces: for me, I will make shift for one; and so, God's curse light upon you all!

All. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade!

Clif. Is Cade the son of Henry the fifth,
That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him?
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes?
Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to;
Nor knows he how to live, but by the spoil,
Unless by robbing of your friends and us.
Were't not a shame, that whilst you live at jar,
The fearful French, whom you late vanquished,
Should make a start o'er seas, and vanquish you?
Methinks already in this civil broil

I see them lording it in London streets,
Crying "Viliaco!" (77) unto all they meet.
Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry
Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's

mercy.

To France, to France, and get what you have lost;
Spare England, for it is your native coast:
Henry hath money, you are strong and manly;
God on our side, doubt not of victory.

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

I

Cade. Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude? the name of Henry the fifth hales them to an hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. see them lay their heads together to surprise me: my sword make way for me, for here is no staying [aside].-In despite of the devils and hell, have through the very middest of you! and heavens and honour be witness, that no want of

resolution in me, but only my followers' base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake me to my heels.

[Exit.

Buck. What, is he fled? Go some, and follow him;

And he that brings his head unto the king.

Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward.—

[Exeunt some of them.

Follow me, soldiers: we'll devise a mean

To reconcile you all unto the king.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IX. Killingworth Castle.

Trumpets sounded. Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, and SOMERSET, on the terrace of the castle.

K. Hen. Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne, And could command no more content than I?

No sooner was I crept out of my cradle

But I was made a king, at nine months old:
Was never subject long'd to be a king

As I do long and wish to be a subject.

Enter BUCKINGHAM and old CLIFFORD.

Buck. Health and glad tidings to your majesty!

K. Hen. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surpris'd?

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

Enter, below, a number of CADE's followers, with halters about their necks.

Clif. He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield; And humbly thus, with halters on their necks,

Expect your highness' doom, of life or death.

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 advértisèd
The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland;
And with a puissant and a mighty power
Of gallowglasses and stout kerns (78)
Is marching hitherward in proud array;
And still proclaimeth, as he comes along,

His arms (79) 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,(80) 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 and meet him ;(81)
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.

SCENE X. Kent. Iden's garden.

Enter CADE.

[Exeunt.

Cade. Fie on ambition!(82) fie 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 laid for me; but now am I 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-pan 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 behind. (83)

Iden. Lord, who would live turmoilèd in the court,
And may enjoy such quiet walks as these?
This small inheritance my father left me
Contenteth me, and (84) worth a monarchy.
I seek not to wax great by others' waning;(85)
Or gather wealth, I care not with what envy :
Sufficeth that I have maintains my state,

And sends the poor well pleasèd 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 [aside].—Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the king by 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, whatsoe'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 steadfast-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 heavèd in the air,

Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth.

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

Cade. By my valour, the most complete champion 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 beseech Jove, (86) 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 wipèd 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 victory. 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, heaven be my judge.
Die, damnèd 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.
Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels
Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave,
And there cut off thy most ungracious head;