King Henry VI, Part 2 · Chapter 4Part 4
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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 him? 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.
Exeunt.
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. Enter Salisbury.
Salisb. Sirs stand apart, the King shall know your minde. 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 of Salisbury
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 breake in
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. Enter.
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 them? 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. Enter Vaux.
Queene. Whether goes Vaux so fast? What newes I prethee? 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.
Exit
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.
Exeunt.
Enter the King, Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Cardinal in bed.
King. How fare's my Lord? Speake Beauford to thy Soueraigne
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.
Exeunt.
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
Lieu. Water: 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.
Exit Walter
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 came vp
Beuis. O miserable Age: Vertue is not regarded in Handy-crafts men
Hol. The Nobilitie thinke scorne to goe in Leather Aprons
Beuis. Nay more, the Kings Councell are no good Workemen
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 Sawyer, with infinite numbers.
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 silence
But. Silence
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 Laces
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 proofe
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 there? 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 hand
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 name? Clearke. Emanuell
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 man? 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
Enter Michael.
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? Mich. No
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 Soldiers.
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 a Traitor
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 no? 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. Enter.
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 Cade and the rest.
Cade. Where's Dicke, the Butcher of Ashford? But. Heere sir