And, if you can, burn down the Tower too.

Come, let's away.

[Exeunt omnes. Alarums. Matthew Goff is flain, and all the rest. Then enter Jack Cade with his Company.

Cade. So, Sirs: Now go fome and pull down the Savoy : Others to the Inns of Court, down with them all. Dick. I have a Suit unto your Lordship.

Cade. Be it a Lordship, thou shalt have it for that word. Dick. Only that the Laws of England may come out of your Mouth.

John. Mafs, 'twill be fore Law then, for he was thrust in the Mouth with a Spear, and 'tis not whole yet.

Smith. Nay, John, it will be stinking Law, for his breath ftinks with tofted Cheese.

Cade. I have thought upon it, it shall be fo. Away, burn all the Records of the Realm, my Mouth fhall be the Parliament of England.

John. Then we are like to have biting Statutes,

Unless his Teeth be pull'd out.

Cade. And hence-forward all things fhall be in Com<

mon.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. My Lord, a prize, a prize, here's the Lord Say, which fold the Towns in France, he that made us pay one and twenty fifteens and one Shilling to the Pound, the laft Subfidy.

Enter George with the Lord Say.

Cade. Well, he thall be beheaded for it ten times. Ah thou Say, thou Serge, nay, thou Buckram Lord, now art thou within point-blank of Jurifdiction Regal. What canft thou answer to my Majefty for giving up of Normandy unto Monfieur Bafimecu, the Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these Prefents, even the prefence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the Befom that muft fweep the Court clean of fuch filth as thou art: Thou haft most traiterously corrupted the Youth of the Realm in erecting a GrammarSchool; and whereas before, our Fore-fathers had no other Books but the Score and the Tally, thou haft caufed Printing to be us'd, and contrary to the King, his Crown and Dignity, thou haft built a Paper-Mill. It will be prov'd to

thy

thy Face, that thou haft Men about thee, that ufually talk of a Noun and a Verb, and fuch abominable Words, as no Chriftian Ear can endure to hear. Thou haft appointed Juftices of Peace, to call poor Men before them, about Matters they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou haft put them in Prifon, and because they could not read, thou haft hang'd them, when, indeed, only for that caufe they have been most worthy to live. Thou doft ride on a foot-cloth, doft thou not?

Say. What of that?

Cade. Marry, thou ought'ft not to let thy Horfe wear a Cloak, when honefter Men than thou go in their Hose and Doublets?

Dick. And work in their Shirt too, as my felf for example, that am a Butcher.

Say. You Men of Kent.

Dick. What fay you of Kent?

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 Cafar writ,

Is terin'd the civil'ft place of all this Ifle;
Sweet is the Country, because full of Riches,
The People Liberal, Valiant, Active, Wealthy,
Which makes me hope thou art not void of pity.
I fold not Main, 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 ought exacted at your Hands?
Kent to maintain, the King, the Realm and you,
Large Gifts bave I bestow'd on learned Clerks,
Because my Book preferr'd me to the King:
And feeing Ignorance is the curfe of God,
Knowledge the Wing wherewith we fly to Heaven,
Unless you be poffeft with devilish Spirits,
Ye cannot but forbear to murther me:
This Tongue hath pallied unto foreign Kings
For your behoof.

Cade. Tur, when ftruck'st thou one Blow in the Field?

Say.

Say. Great Men have reaching Hands; oft have I ftruck Thofe that I never faw, and ftruck them dead.

George. O monftrous Coward! What, to come behind. Folks?

Say. Thefe 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 Sicknefs and Difeafes.

Cade. Ye fhall have a hempen Caudle then, and the help of a Hatchet.

Dick. Why doft thou quiver, Man?

Say. The Palfie, 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 stand steadier 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? Speak.
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 harbouring foul deceitful Thoughts.
O let me live.

Cade. I feel remorfe in my felf with his Words; but I'll bridle it; he shall dye, and it be but for pleading fo well for his Life. Away with him, he has a Familiar under his Tongue, he speaks not a God's Name. Go, take him away I fay, and ftrike off his Head prefently, and then break into his Son-in-Law's Houle, Sir James Cromer, and ftrike off his Head, and bring them both upon two Poles hither.

All. It fhall be done.

your Pray❜rs,

Say. Ah Country-men, if when you make God fhould be fo obdurate as your felves, How would it fare with your departed Souls? And therefore yet relent, and fave my Life.

Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye: The proudest Peer of the Realm fhall not wear a Head on his Shoulders, unless he pay me Tribute; there fhall not a Maid be married, but the thall pay me her Maidenhead e'er 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 shall 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 brave?

Let them kifs one another; for they lov'd well
When they were alive: Now part them again,
Left they confult about giving up

Of fome more Towns in France. Soldiers,
Defer the spoil of the City until Night,

For with thefe born before us, inftead of Maces,
He will ride through the Streets, and at every Corner
Have them kifs. Away.

[Exeunt. Alarm, and Retreat. Enter again Cade, and all his

Rabblement.

Cade. Up Fish-street, down St. Magnes Corner, kill and knock down, throw them into Thames.

Sound a Parley.

What noife is this I hear?

Dare any be fo bold to found Retreat or Parley,
When I command them kill?

Enter Buckingham, and old Clifford.

Buck. Ay, here they be that dare and will difturb thee: Know, Cade, we come Ambaffadors from the King Unto the Commons, whom thou haft miss-led, And here pronounce free Pardon to them all, That will forfake thee, and ვი home in peace. Clif. What fay ye, Country-men, will ye relent, And yield to Mercy, whilft 'tis offered 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 Majesty ; Who hateth him, and honours not his Father, Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake, Shake he his Weapon at us, and pafs by.

All

All. God fave the King! God fave the King! Cade. What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye fo brave? And you, bafe Peafants, do ye believe him? will you needs be hang'd with you 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 you would never have given out thefe Arms 'till you had recovered your ancient Freedom; but you are all Recreants and Daftards, and delight to live in Slavery to the Nobility. Let them break your Backs with burthens, take your Houses over your Heads, ravish your Wives and Daughters before your Faces. For me, I will make shift for one, and fo God's Curfe 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 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.
Wer't not a fhame, that whilft you live at jar,
The fearful French, whom you late vanquished,
Should make a ftart o'er Seas, and vanquish you?
Methinks already in this civil broil,

I fee them Lording it in London Streets,
Crying Villiago unto all they meet.

Better ten thoufand bafe-born Cades mifcarry,
Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's Mercy.
To France, to France, and get what you have loft;
Spare England, for it is your Native Coaft:
Henry hath Mony, you are strong and manly:
God on our fide, doubt not of Victory.

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. VOL. III.

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