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

Come, let's away.

[Exeunt omnes. Alarum. Mathew Goff is flain, and all the reft. Then enter Jack Cade with his Company.

Cade. So, Sirs: Now go fome and pull down the Savoy : Others to the Inns of Courts, 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: finks with tofted Cheese.

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

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

Enter George with the Lord Say.

Ah

Cade. Well, he fhall be beheaded for it ten times. thou Say, thou Serge, nay, thou Buckram Lord, now art thou within point-black of our Jurifdiction Regal. What canft the uanswer to my Majefty for giving up of Norman dy unto Monfieur Bafimecu, the Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these Presents, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the Befom that muft fweep the Court clean of fuch filth as thou art: Thou haft moft traiterously corrupted the Youth of the Realm in erecting a Grammar School; 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

be prov'd to 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 the Peace, to call poor Men before them about Matters they were not able to anfwer. Moreover, thou haft put them in Prison, and because they could not read, thou haft hang'd them, when indeed, only for that cause they have been moft 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 Hofe 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 speaks Latin. Say. Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will: Kent, in the Commentaries Cafar writ,

Is term'd the civil'ft place of all this Ifle;

Sweet is the Country, becaufe 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 have 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 parlied unto foreign Kings
For your behoof.

Cade. Tut, when struck'st thou one Blow in the Field?

Say

Say. Great Men have reaching Hands; oft have I ftruck Thofe that I never faw, and struck 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 Causes, Hath made me full of Sickness and Diseases.

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 ftand fteadier on a Pole, or no: Take him away, and behead him.

Say. Tell me, wherein have I offended most?
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 fhall 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 Houfe, Sir James Cromer, and ftrike off his Head, and bring them both upon two Poles hither. All. It fhall be done.

Say. Ah Country-men, if when you make your Pray'rs, 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 fhall pay me her Maidenhead e'er they

have it; Men fhall hold of me in Capite. And we Charge and Command, that their Wives be as free as Heart can wifh, or Tongue can tell.

Dick. My Lord,

When fhall 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 the giving up

Of fome more Towns in France.

Soldiers,

Defer the fpoil of the City until Night,

For with these borne before us, instead of Maces,
Will we ride through the Streets, and at every Corner
Have them kiss. 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 mif-led, And here pronounce free Pardon to them all, That will forfake thee, and go 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 Majefty; Who hateth him, and honours not his Father, Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake, Shake he his Weapon at us, and pai's by.

All, God fave the King! God fave the King!

you

Cade. What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye fo brave? And you, bafe Peasants, do ye believe him? will needs be hang'd with your Pardons about your Necks? Hath my Sword therefore broke through London Gates, that you fhould leave me at the White-Hart in Southwark? I thought you would never have given out these 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 Houfes over your Heads, ravish your Wives and Daughters before your Faces. For me, I will make fhift 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 start 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 thousand base-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 Coast:
Henry bath Mony, you are ftrong 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. I fee them lay their Heads together to furprize

me.