But now is Cade driv'n back, his men difpers'd; I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet with him, Som. My Lord, I'll yield myself to prifon willingly, Or unto death, to do my country good. K. Henry. In any cafe be not too rough in terms, For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language. Buck. I will, my Lord; and doubt not fo to deal, As all things fhall redound unto your good. K. Hen. Čome, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better; For yet may England curfe my wretched reign. [Exeunt. Cade. F SCENE, a Garden in Kent. Enter Jack Cade. IE on ambitions; fy on myfelf, that have a fword, and yet am ready to famish. Thefe five days have 1 hid me in thefe woods and durft not peep out, for all the country is laid for me: but now am I fo hungry, that if I might have a leafe of my life for a thousand years, I could ftay no longer. Wherefore on a brick-wall have I climb'd into this garden to fee if I can eat grass, or pick a fallet another while, which is not amifs to cool a man's ftomach this hot weather; and, I think, this word fallet was born to do me good; for many a time, but for a fallet, my brainpan had been cleft with a brown bill; and many a time when I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath ferv'd me inftead of a quart-pot to drink in; and now the word fallet muft serve me to feed on. Enter Iden. Iden. Lord! who would live turmoiled in the Court, And may enjoy fuch quiet walks as thefe ? This fmall inheritance, my father left me, Contenteth Contenteth me, and's worth a monarchy. Cade. Here's the Lord of the foil come to feize me for a ftray, for entring his fee-fimple without leave. 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 oftridge, and swallow my fword like a great pin, ere thou and I part. Iden. Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be, And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, Cade. Brave thee? by the beft blood that ever was broach'd, and beard thee too. Look on me well, I have eat no meat thefe five days, yet come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you as dead as a doornail, I pray God, I may never eat grafs more. Iden. Nay, it fhall never be faid while England ftands, That Alexander Iden an Efquire of Kent, Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. See, if thou canft out-face me with thy looks : Thy leg a ftick, compared with this truncheon. Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth : As for more words, whofe greatness answers words, Let this my fword report what speech forbears. Cade. By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard. Steel, if thou turn thine edge, or cut not out the burly-bon'd clown in chines of beef ere thou fleep in thy fheath, I befeech Jove on my knees. thou may'st be turned into hob-nails. [Here they fight. ΟΙ OI am flain! famine, and no other, hath flain me; let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have loft, and I'd defy them all. Wither garden, and be henceforth a burying-place to all that do dwell in this houfe; because the unconquer'd foul of Cade is fled. Iden. Is't Cade that I have flain, that monftrous traitor? Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, And hang thee o'er my tomb, when I am dead. Ne'er fhall this blood be wiped from thy point, But thou fhalt wear it as a herald's coat, T'emblaze the honour which thy mafter got. Cade. Iden, farewel, and be proud of thy victory: tell Kent from me, fhe hath loft her best man; and exhort all the world to be cowards; for I, that never fear'd any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour. [Dies. Iden. How much thou wrong'ft me, heaven be my judge! Die damned wretch, the curfe of her that bare thee: And as I thruft thy body in with my fword, So with I, I might thruft thy foul to hell. Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels Unto a dunghill, which fhall be thy grave; And there cut off thy moft ungracious head, Which I will bear in triumph to the King, Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. ACT АСТ V. SCENE, in the fields near London. Enter York, and his army of Irish, with drum and F colours. YORK. ROM Ireland thus comes York to claim his Right, And pluck the Crown from feeble Henry's head. Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright, To entertain great England's lawful King! Ah Majefty! who would not buy thee dear? On which I'll tofs the Flower-de-luce of France. Enter Buckingham. Whom have we here? Buckingham to disturb me? Buck. A meffenger from Henry our dread Liege, York. York. Scarce can I fpeak, my choler is fo great." On fheep or oxen could I fpend my fury. [Afide. Buck. That is too much prefumption on thy part; But if thy arms be to no other end, The King hath yielded unto thy demand: York. Upon thine Honour is he prifoner? Lands, goods, horfe, armour, any thing I have, Buck. York, I commend this kind submission, [Exeunt. SCENE |