BUTCHER I desire no more.
CADE And to speak truth, thou deserv’st no less. ⌈
He apparels himself in the Staffords’ armour
⌉ This monument of the victory will I bear, and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels till I do come to London, where we will have the Mayor’s sword borne before us.
BUTCHER If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the jails and let out the prisoners.
CADE Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let’s march towards London.
Exeunt
, ⌈
dragging
the
Staffords’ bodies
⌉
4.4
Enter King Henry
⌈
reading
⌉
a supplication, Queen Margaret carrying Suffolk’s head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Saye,
⌈
with others
⌉
QUEEN MARGARET ⌈
aside
⌉
Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind,
And makes it fearful and degenerate;
Think, therefore, on revenge, and cease to weep.
But who can cease to weep and look on this?
Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast,
But where’s the body that I should embrace?
BUCKINGHAM (
to King Henry
)
What answer makes your grace to the rebels’ supplication?
KING HENRY
I’ll send some holy bishop to entreat,
For God forbid so many simple souls
Should perish by the sword. And I myself,
Rather than bloody war shall cut them short,
Will parley with Jack Cade their general.
But stay, I’ll read it over once again.
QUEEN MARGARET (
to Suffolk’s head
)
Ah, barbarous villains! Hath this lovely face
Ruled like a wandering planet over me,
And could it not enforce them to relent,
That were unworthy to behold the same?
KING HENRY
Lord Saye, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.
SAYE
Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his.
KING HENRY (
to Queen Margaret
)
How now, madam? Still lamenting and mourning
Suffolk’s death?
I fear me, love, if that I had been dead,
Thou wouldest not have mourned so much for me.
QUEEN MARGARET
No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee.
Enter a
Messenger,
Fin haste
⌉
KING HENRY
How now? What news? Why com’st thou in such haste?
MESSENGER
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 usurper, openly,
And vows to crown himself in Westminster.
His army is a ragged multitude
Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless.
Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother’s death
Hath given them heart and courage to proceed.
All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen,
They call false caterpillars and intend their death.
KING HENRY
O, graceless men; they know not what they do.
BUCKINGHAM
My gracious lord, retire to Kenilworth
Until a power be raised to put them down.
QUEEN MARGARET
Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive
These Kentish rebels would be soon appeased!
KING HENRY
Lord Saye, the trait’rous rabble hateth thee—
Therefore away with us to Kenilworth.
SAYE
So might your grace’s person be in danger.
The sight of me is odious in their eyes,
And therefore in this city will I stay
And live alone as secret as I may.
Enter another Messenger
SECOND MESSENGER (
to King Henry
)
Jack Cade hath almost gotten London Bridge;
The citizens fly and forsake their houses;
The rascal people, thirsting after prey,
Join with the traitor; and they jointly swear
To spoil the city and your royal court.
BUCKINGHAM (
to King Henry
)
Then linger not, my lord; away, take horse!
KING HENRY
Come, Margaret. God, our hope, will succour us.
QUEEN MARGARET ⌈
aside
⌉
My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceased.
KING HENRY (
to Saye)
Farewell, my lord. Trust not the Kentish rebels.
BUCKINGHAM (
to Saye)
Trust nobody, for fear you be betrayed.
SAYE
The trust I have is in mine innocence,
And therefore am I bold and resolute.
Exeunt
⌈
Saye at one door, the rest at another
⌉
4.5
Enter the Lord Scales upon the Tower, walking. Enter three or four Citizens below
SCALES How now? Is Jack Cade slain?
FIRST CITIZEN No, my lord Scales, nor likely to be slain, for he and his men have won the bridge, killing all those that did withstand them. The Lord Mayor craveth aid of your honour from the Tower to defend the city from the rebels.
SCALES
Such aid as I can spare you shall command,
But I am troubled here with them myself.
The rebels have essayed to win the Tower.
Get you to Smithfield, there to gather head,
And thither will I send you Matthew Gough.
Fight for your king, your country, and your lives!
And so, farewell, for I must hence again.
Exeunt, Scales above, the Citizens below
4.6
Enter Jack Cade, the Weaver, the Butcher, and the rest. Cade strikes his sword on London Stone
CADE Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And, here sitting upon London Stone, I charge and command that, of the city’s cost, the Pissing Conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign. And now henceforward it shall be treason for any that calls me otherwise than Lord Mortimer.
SOLDIER Jack Cade, Jack Cade!
CADE Zounds, knock him down there!
They kill him
BUTCHER If this fellow be wise, he’ll never call ye Jack Cade more; I think he hath a very fair warning. ⌈
He takes a paper from
the
soldier’s body and reads it
⌉ My lord, there’s an army gathered together in Smithfield.
CADE Come then, let’s go fight with them—but first, go on and set London Bridge afire, and, if you can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let’s away. Exeunt
4.7
Alarums.
⌈
Excursions, wherein
⌉ M
atthew Gough is slain, and all the rest of his men with him. Then enter Jack Cade with his company, among them the Butcher, the Weaver, and John, a rebel
CADE So, sirs, now go some and pull down the Savoy; others to th’ Inns of Court—down with them all.
BUTCHER I have a suit unto your lordship.
CADE Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word.
BUTCHER Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth.
JOHN
(aside to his fellows
) Mass, ‘twill be sore law then, for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and ’tis not whole yet.
WEAVER
(aside
to John) Nay, John, it will be stinking law, for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese.
CADE I have thought upon it—it shall be so. Away! Burn all the records of the realm. My mouth shall be the Parliament of England.
JOHN
(aside
to his fellows) Then we are like to have biting statutes unless his teeth be pulled out.
CADE And henceforward all things shall be in common.
Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER My lord, a prize, a prize! Here’s the Lord Saye which sold the towns in France. He that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens and one shilling to the pound the last subsidy.
Enter a rebel with the Lord Saye
CADE Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. (
To Saye
) Ah, thou say, thou serge—nay, thou buckram lord! Now art thou within point-blank of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer to my majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu, the Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these presence, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school; and, whereas before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used and, contrary to the King his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb and such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed justices of peace to call poor men before them about matters they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast put them in prison, and, because they could not read, thou hast hanged them when indeed only for that cause they have been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride on a foot-cloth, dost thou not?
SAYE What of that?
CADE Marry, thou ought’st not to let thy horse wear a cloak when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets.
BUTCHER And work in their shirts, too; as myself, for example, that am a butcher.
SAYE You men of Kent.
BUTCHER What say you of Kent?
SAYE
Nothing but this—’tis bona
terra, mala gens.
CADE
Bonum terrum
—zounds, what’s that?
BUTCHER He speaks French.
⌈first REBEL⌉ No, ’tis Dutch.
SECOND REBEL⌉ No, ’tis Out-talian, I know it well enough.
SAYE
Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will.
Kent, in the commentaries Caesar writ,
Is termed the civil’st place of all this isle;
Sweet is the country, because full of riches;
The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy;
Which makes me hope you are not void of pity.
I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy;
Yet to recover them would lose my life.
Justice with favour have I always done,
Prayers and tears have moved me—gifts could never.
When have I aught exacted at your hands,
But to maintain the King, the realm, and you?
Large gifts have I bestowed on learned clerks
Because my book preferred me to the King,
And seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.
Unless you be possessed with devilish spirits,
You cannot but forbear to murder me.
This tongue hath parleyed unto foreign kings
For your behoof—
CADE Tut, when struck’st thou one blow in the field?
SAYE
Great men have reaching hands. Oft have I struck
Those that I never saw, and struck them dead.
REBEL O monstrous coward! What, to come behind folks?
SAYE
These cheeks are pale for watching for your good—
CADE Give him a box o‘th’ ear, and that will make ’em red again.
⌈
One of the rebels strikes Saye
⌉
SAYE
Long sitting to determine poor men’s causes
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases.
CADE Ye shall have a hempen caudle, then, and the health o’th’ hatchet.
BUTCHER (
to Saye
) Why dost thou quiver, man?
SAYE
The palsy, and not fear, provokes me.
CADE Nay, he nods at us as who should say ‘I’ll be even with you’. I’ll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole or no. Take him away, and behead him.
SAYE
Tell me wherein have I offended most ?
Have I affected wealth or honour? Speak.
Are my chests filled up with extorted gold?
Is my apparel sumptuous to behold?
Whom have I injured, that ye seek my death?
These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding,
This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts.
O let me live!
CADE
(aside)
I feel remorse in myself with his words, but I’ll bridle it. He shall die an it be but for pleading so well for his life. (
Aloud
) Away with him—he has a familiar under his tongue; he speaks not a God’s name. Go, take him away, I say, to the Standard in Cheapside, and strike off his head presently; and then go to Mile End Green—break into his son-in-law’s house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither.