all that do dwell in this houfe, becaufe the unconquer'd foul of Cade is fled.

[tor?

Iden. Is't Cade that I have flain, that monstrous traiSword, 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 shalt wear it as a herald's coat, T'emblaze the honour which thy mafter got..

Gade. 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' me, Heaven be my judge!

Die, damned wretch, the curfe of her that bare thee :
And as I thruit thy body in with my fword,.
So wifh 1, I might thruit 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.

[Exit.

AC T

V.

SCENE I.

In the fields near London.

Enter York, and his army of Irish, with drum and

York. FRO

colours.

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, Majesty who would not buy thee dear?
Let them obey that know not how to rule.

This hand was made to handle nought but gold.
I cannot give due action to my words,
Except a fword or fceptre balance it.

A fceptre fhall it have, (have I foul),

On which I il tofs the flower-de-luce of France.

Enter Buckingham.

Whom have we here? Buckingham to disturb me?
The King hath feat him, fure: I must dissemble.
Buck. York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well.
York. Humphry of Buckingham, Faccept thy greeting-
Art thou a meffenger, or come of pleasure ?

Buck. A meffenger from Henry our dread Liege,
To know the reafon of thefe arms in peace ?
Or why, thou, being a fubject as I am,
Against thy oath and true allegiance fworn,
Shouldft raise fo great a power without his leave?
Or dare to bring thy force fo near the court?
York. Scarce can I fpeak, my choler is fo
great.

Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint,
I am fo angry at these abject terms.
And now, like Ajax Telamonius,

On fheep or oxen could I spend my fury.
I am far better born than is the King :
More like a King, more kingly in my
thoughts.

But I must make fair weather yet a while,
Till Henry be more weak and I more strong.
O Buckingham! I pr'ythee pardon me,
That I have given no answer all this while;
My mind was troubled with deep melancholy.
The cause why I have brought this army hither,
Is to remove proud Someriet from the King,
Seditious to his Grace and to the ftate.

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:

The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower.

York. Upon thine honour is he prisoner?
Buck. Upon mine honour he is prifoner.

York. Then, Buckingham, I do difmifs my powers:
Soldiers, I thank you all; difperfe yourselves;
Meet me to-morrow in St George's field,
You shall have pay and every thing you wish.
And let my Sovereign, virtuous Henry,
Command my eldelt fon; nay, all my fons,

As pledges of my fealty and love,

I'll fend then all as willing as I live;

Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have,
Is his to use, fo Somerfet may die.

Buck. York, I commend this kind fubmiffion,
We twain will go into his Highness' tent.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Changes to the King's pavilion. Enter King Henry, and Attendants. Re-enter Buckingham and York, attended.

K. Henry. Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm? [us, York. In all fubmiffion and humility,

York doth prefent himself unto your Highness..

K. Henry. Then what intend these forces thou dost bring?

York. To heave the traitor Somerset from hence, And fight against that monftrous rebel Cade, Whom fince I heard to be discomfited..

Enter Iden with Cade's head.

Iden. If one fo rude, and of fo mean condition, May pass into the presence of a King,

Lo, I present your Grace a traitor's head;
The head of Cade, whom I in combat flew.

K. Henry. The head of Cade? Great God! how juft

O, let me view his vifage being dead,

[art thou That living wrought me fuch exceeding trouble. Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that flew him? Iden. I was, an't like your Majesty..

K. Henry. How art thou call'd? and what is thy Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name.

[degree A poor Efquire of Kent, that loves the King. Buck. So please it you, my Lord, 'twere not amifs He were created Knight for his good service.

K Henry den, kneel down; rife up a Knight: We give thee for reward a thousand marks, And will that thou henceforth attend on us. Iden. May Iden live to merit fuch a bounty, And never live but true unto his Liège!

SCEN E III.

Enter Queen Margaret and Somerset.

K. Henry. See, Buckingham, Somerfet comes with the Queen;

Go, bid her hide him quickly from the Duke.

2. Mar. For thoufand Yorks he thall not hide his But boldly ftand and front him to his face.

[head,

York. How now? is Somerset at liberty?
Then, York, unloofe thy long imprifon'd thoughts,
And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart.
Shall I endure the fight of Somerset ?

Falfe King why haft thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly i can brook abuse?
King did I call thee? no, thou art no King:
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,

Which durft not, no, nor canft not rule a traitor.
That head of thine doth not become a crown:
Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff,
And not to grace an awful princely fceptre.
That gold must round ingirt thefe brows of mine,
Whofe fimile and frown (like to Achilles' fpear *)
Is able with the change to kill and cure.
Here is a hand to hold a fceptre up,
And with the fame to act controlling laws.
Give place; by heaven thou fhalt rule no more
O'er him whom heav'n created for thy ruler.

Som. O monftrous traitor! I arrest thee, York,
Of capital treafon 'gainst the King and crown;

cured.

The story is, that Telephus the fon of Hercules, being King of Myfia, oppofed the paffage of the Greeks to Troy, and being grievoutly wounded by Achilles, confulted the oracle how he might be The answer he received was, That nothing but the fame fpear which gave the wound could heal it upon which he made friends to Achilles, who, by the ruft from the fteel of his fpear foraped into 1 the wound, cured him. And in return for fo great a benefit, Telephus followed Achilles as an auxiliary to the fiege of Troy. Ovid refers to this story in the following verfis.

"Vuinus in Herculeo quæ quondam feceret hofte
Vulneris auxilium Pelias hafa tulit."

16

And Propertius,

Myfus et Æmoniâ juvenis quâ cufpide vulnus
"Senferat, hâc ipfâ cufpide fenfit opem,"

Obey, audacious traitor, kneel for grace.

York. Sirrah, call in my fons to be my bail; Would't have me kneel? First, let me ask of these, If they can brook I bow a knee to man.

I know, ere they will let me go to ward,

They'll pawn their fwords for my infranchisement.
2. Mar. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amain,
To fay, if that the baftard boys of York
Shall be the furety for their traitor father..
York. O blood-befpotted Neapolitan,

Outcast of Naples, England's bloody fcourge t
The fons of York, thy betters in their birth,
Shall be their father's bail, and bane to those
That for my furety will refufe the boys.

Enter Edward Plantagenet and Richard Plantagenet. See where they come; I'll warrant they'll make it good,

Enter Clifford.

2. Mar. And here comes Clifford, to deny their bail.. Clif Health and all happiness to my Lord the King. York. I thank thee, Clifford; fay, what news with Nay, do not fright us with an angry look: We are thy Sovereign, Clifford, kneel again; For thy miftaking fo, we pardon thee.

[thee?

Clif This is my King, York, I do not mistake;

But thou mistak'ft me much, to think I do :
To Bedlam with him; is the man grown mad?

K. Henry. Ay, Clifford, a Bedlam and ambitious huMakes him oppose himself against his King.

Clif. He is a traitor, let him to the Tower, And crop away that factious pate of his.

[mour

2. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey: His ions, he fays, fhall give their words for him. Fork. Will you not, fons?

R. Plan. Ay, Noble father, if our words will serve. R. Plan. And if words will not, then our weapons

fhall.

Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have we here? York. Look in a glafs, and call thy image fo.

I am thy King, and thou a falfe-heart traitor;