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 seal 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 monstrous !

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 must examine thee. What is thy name?

Clerk, Emanuel.

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

Cade. Let me alone.

Doft thou use to write thy name? or haft thou a mark to thyself 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.

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

Gade.

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, ftand, or I'll fell thee down. He fhall be encounter'd with a man as good as himfelf. He is but a knight, is a'?

Mich. No.

Mich. To equal him, I will make myself 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. Sir Dick Butcher. Now found up the druin.

Rise up,

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

Staf. Rebellious hinds, the filth and fcum of Kent. Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons 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 forward; therefore yield or die.

Gade. As for thefe filken-coated flaves, I pass not *

It is to you good people, that I speak,

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 plaifterer,

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 phrafe of that time.
F 3

Cade.

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

Gade. Ay, there's the question; 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 I; deny it if you can.

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

Staf. And will you credit this bafe drudge's words, That peaks 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.

Cade. 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 spancounter for French crowns), I am content he shall 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 maim'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, answer if you can. The Frenchmen are our enemies go to then; I ask but this, can he that speaks with the tongue of the enemy, be a good counfellor or no

All. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head. Y. 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 thofe which fly before the battle ends, May even in their wives' and childrens' fight)

Be

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 thew 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 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 forward.

[Exeunt Cade and his party. [Alarum to fight, wherein both the Staffords are flain. Re-enter Cade, and the rest.

Cade. Where's Dick the butcher of Afhford?

Dick. Here, Sir.

Cade. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behavedft thyfelf as if thou hadft been in thine own flaughter-houfe: therefore thus I will reward thee. The lent fhall 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 fhall be dragg'd at my horfe's heels, till I do come to London, where we will have the Mayor's fword borne before us.

Dick. If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the gaols, and let out the prisoners.

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

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

Changes to Black-heath.

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

mind,

2. Mar. Oft have I heard, that grief foftens the And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep.

But

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 should embrace?

Buck. What answer makes your Grace to the rebels' fupplication?

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

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

2. Mar. Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely face 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?

Mef. The rebels are in Southwark: fly, my Lord.
Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer,
Descended 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

Of hinds and peasants, 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,