Seru. So please your Grace, wee'le take her from theSherife
Gloster. No, stirre not for your liues, let her passeby
Elianor. Come you, my Lord, to see my open shame?Now thou do'st Penance too. Looke how they gaze,See how the giddy multitude doe point,And nodde their heads, and throw their eyes on thee.Ah Gloster, hide thee from their hatefull lookes,And in thy Closet pent vp, rue my shame,And banne thine Enemies, both mine and thine
Glost. Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this griefe
Elianor. Ah Gloster, teach me to forget my selfe:For whilest I thinke I am thy married Wife,And thou a Prince, Protector of this Land;Me thinkes I should not thus be led along,Mayl'd vp in shame, with Papers on my back,And follow'd with a Rabble, that reioyceTo see my teares, and heare my deepe-fet groanes.The ruthlesse Flint doth cut my tender feet,And when I start, the enuious people laugh,And bid me be aduised how I treade.Ah Humfrey, can I beare this shamefull yoake?Trowest thou, that ere Ile looke vpon the World,Or count them happy, that enioyes the Sunne?No: Darke shall be my Light, and Night my Day.To thinke vpon my Pompe, shall be my Hell.Sometime Ile say, I am Duke Humfreyes Wife,And he a Prince, and Ruler of the Land:Yet so he rul'd, and such a Prince he was,As he stood by, whilest I, his forlorne Duchesse,Was made a wonder, and a pointing stockTo euery idle Rascall follower.But be thou milde, and blush not at my shame,Nor stirre at nothing, till the Axe of DeathHang ouer thee, as sure it shortly will.For Suffolke, he that can doe all in allWith her, that hateth thee and hates vs all,And Yorke, and impious Beauford, that false Priest,Haue all lym'd Bushes to betray thy Wings,And flye thou how thou canst, they'le tangle thee.But feare not thou, vntill thy foot be snar'd,Nor neuer seeke preuention of thy foes
Glost. Ah Nell, forbeare: thou aymest all awry.I must offend, before I be attainted:And had I twentie times so many foes,And each of them had twentie times their power,All these could not procure me any scathe,So long as I am loyall, true, and crimelesse.Would'st haue me rescue thee from this reproach?Why yet thy scandall were not wipt away,But I in danger for the breach of Law.Thy greatest helpe is quiet, gentle Nell:I pray thee sort thy heart to patience,These few dayes wonder will be quickly worne.Enter a Herald.
Her. I summon your Grace to his Maiesties Parliament,Holden at Bury, the first of this next Moneth
Glost. And my consent ne're ask'd herein before?This is close dealing. Well, I will be there.My Nell, I take my leaue: and Master Sherife,Let not her Penance exceede the Kings Commission
Sh. And't please your Grace, here my Commission stayes:And Sir Iohn Stanly is appointed now,To take her with him to the Ile of Man
Glost. Must you, Sir Iohn, protect my Lady here?Stanly. So am I giuen in charge, may't please yourGrace
Glost. Entreat her not the worse, in that I prayYou vse her well: the World may laugh againe,And I may liue to doe you kindnesse, if you doe it her.And so Sir Iohn, farewell
Elianor. What, gone my Lord, and bid me not farewell?Glost. Witnesse my teares, I cannot stay to speake.
Exit Gloster.
Elianor. Art thou gone to? all comfort goe with thee,For none abides with me: my Ioy, is Death;Death, at whose Name I oft haue beene afear'd,Because I wish'd this Worlds eternitie.Stanley, I prethee goe, and take me hence,I care not whither, for I begge no fauor;Onely conuey me where thou art commanded
Stanley. Why, Madame, that is to the Ile of Man,There to be vs'd according to your State
Elianor. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach:And shall I then be vs'd reproachfully?Stanley. Like to a Duchesse, and Duke Humfreyes Lady,According to that State you shall be vs'd
Elianor. Sherife farewell, and better then I fare,Although thou hast beene Conduct of my shame
Sherife. It is my Office, and Madame pardon me
Elianor. I, I, farewell, thy Office is discharg'd:Come Stanley, shall we goe?Stanley. Madame, your Penance done,Throw off this Sheet,And goe we to attyre you for our Iourney
Elianor. My shame will not be shifted with my Sheet:No, it will hang vpon my richest Robes,And shew it selfe, attyre me how I can.Goe, leade the way, I long to see my Prison.
Exeunt.
Sound a Senet. Enter King, Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke, Yorke,Buckingham,Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Parliament.
King. I muse my Lord of Gloster is not come:'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,What e're occasion keepes him from vs now
Queene. Can you not see? or will ye not obserueThe strangenesse of his alter'd Countenance?With what a Maiestie he beares himselfe,How insolent of late he is become,How prowd, how peremptorie, and vnlike himselfe.We know the time since he was milde and affable,And if we did but glance a farre-off Looke,Immediately he was vpon his Knee,That all the Court admir'd him for submission.But meet him now, and be it in the Morne,When euery one will giue the time of day,He knits his Brow, and shewes an angry Eye,And passeth by with stiffe vnbowed Knee,Disdaining dutie that to vs belongs.Small Curres are not regarded when they grynne,But great men tremble when the Lyon rores,And Humfrey is no little Man in England.First note, that he is neere you in discent,And should you fall, he is the next will mount.Me seemeth then, it is no Pollicie,Respecting what a rancorous minde he beares,And his aduantage following your decease,That he should come about your Royall Person,Or be admitted to your Highnesse Councell.By flatterie hath he wonne the Commons hearts:And when he please to make Commotion,'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him.Now 'tis the Spring, and Weeds are shallow-rooted,Suffer them now, and they'le o're-grow the Garden,And choake the Herbes for want of Husbandry.The reuerent care I beare vnto my Lord,Made me collect these dangers in the Duke.If it be fond, call it a Womans feare:Which feare, if better Reasons can supplant,I will subscribe, and say I wrong'd the Duke.My Lord of Suffolke, Buckingham, and Yorke,Reproue my allegation, if you can,Or else conclude my words effectuall
Suff. Well hath your Highnesse seene into this Duke:And had I first beene put to speake my minde,I thinke I should haue told your Graces Tale.The Duchesse, by his subornation,Vpon my Life began her diuellish practises:Or if he were not priuie to those Faults,Yet by reputing of his high discent,As next the King, he was successiue Heire,And such high vaunts of his Nobilitie,Did instigate the Bedlam braine-sick Duchesse,By wicked meanes to frame our Soueraignes fall.Smooth runnes the Water, where the Brooke is deepe,And in his simple shew he harbours Treason.The Fox barkes not, when he would steale the Lambe.No, no, my Soueraigne, Glouster is a manVnsounded yet, and full of deepe deceit
Card. Did he not, contrary to forme of Law,Deuise strange deaths, for small offences done?Yorke. And did he not, in his Protectorship,Leuie great summes of Money through the Realme,For Souldiers pay in France, and neuer sent it?By meanes whereof, the Townes each day reuolted
Buck. Tut, these are petty faults to faults vnknowne,Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humfrey
King. My Lords at once: the care you haue of vs,To mowe downe Thornes that would annoy our Foot,Is worthy prayse: but shall I speake my conscience,Our Kinsman Gloster is as innocent,From meaning Treason to our Royall Person,As is the sucking Lambe, or harmelesse Doue:The Duke is vertuous, milde, and too well giuen,To dreame on euill, or to worke my downefall
Qu. Ah what's more dangerous, then this fond affiance?Seemes he a Doue? his feathers are but borrow'd,For hee's disposed as the hatefull Rauen.Is he a Lambe? his Skinne is surely lent him,For hee's enclin'd as is the rauenous Wolues.Who cannot steale a shape, that meanes deceit?Take heed, my Lord, the welfare of vs all,Hangs on the cutting short that fraudfull man.Enter Somerset
Som. All health vnto my gracious Soueraigne
King. Welcome Lord Somerset: What Newes fromFrance?Som. That all your Interest in those Territories,Is vtterly bereft you: all is lost
King. Cold Newes, Lord Somerset: but Gods will bedone
Yorke. Cold Newes for me: for I had hope of France,As firmely as I hope for fertile England.Thus are my Blossomes blasted in the Bud,And Caterpillers eate my Leaues away:But I will remedie this geare ere long,Or sell my Title for a glorious Graue.Enter Gloucester.
Glost. All happinesse vnto my Lord the King:Pardon, my Liege, that I haue stay'd so long
Suff. Nay Gloster, know that thou art come too soone,Vnlesse thou wert more loyall then thou art:I doe arrest thee of High Treason here
Glost. Well Suffolke, thou shalt not see me blush,Nor change my Countenance for this Arrest:A Heart vnspotted, is not easily daunted.The purest Spring is not so free from mudde,As I am cleare from Treason to my Soueraigne.Who can accuse me? wherein am I guiltie?Yorke. 'Tis thought, my Lord,That you tooke Bribes of France,And being Protector, stay'd the Souldiers pay,By meanes whereof, his Highnesse hath lost France
Glost. Is it but thought so?What are they that thinke it?I neuer rob'd the Souldiers of their pay,Nor euer had one penny Bribe from France.So helpe me God, as I haue watcht the Night,I, Night by Night, in studying good for England.That Doyt that ere I wrested from the King,Or any Groat I hoorded to my vse,Be brought against me at my Tryall day.No: many a Pound of mine owne proper store,Because I would not taxe the needie Commons,Haue I dis-pursed to the Garrisons,And neuer ask'd for restitution
Card. It serues you well, my Lord, to say so much
Glost. I say no more then truth, so helpe me God
Yorke. In your Protectorship, you did deuiseStrange Tortures for Offendors, neuer heard of,That England was defam'd by Tyrannie
Glost. Why 'tis well known, that whiles I was Protector,Pittie was all the fault that was in me:For I should melt at an Offendors teares,And lowly words were Ransome for their fault:Vnlesse it were a bloody Murtherer,Or foule felonious Theefe, that fleec'd poore passengers,I neuer gaue them condigne punishment.Murther indeede, that bloodie sinne, I tortur'dAboue the Felon, or what Trespas else
Suff. My Lord, these faults are easie, quickly answer'd:But mightier Crimes are lay'd vnto your charge,Whereof you cannot easily purge your selfe.I doe arrest you in his Highnesse Name,And here commit you to my Lord CardinallTo keepe, vntill your further time of Tryall
King. My Lord of Gloster, 'tis my speciall hope,That you will cleare your selfe from all suspence,My Conscience tells me you are innocent
Glost. Ah gracious Lord, these dayes are dangerous:Vertue is choakt with foule Ambition,And Charitie chas'd hence by Rancours hand;Foule Subornation is predominant,And Equitie exil'd your Highnesse Land.I know, their Complot is to haue my Life:And if my death might make this Iland happy,And proue the Period of their Tyrannie,I would expend it with all willingnesse.But mine is made the Prologue to their Play:For thousands more, that yet suspect no perill,Will not conclude their plotted Tragedie.Beaufords red sparkling eyes blab his hearts mallice,And Suffolks cloudie Brow his stormie hate;Sharpe Buckingham vnburthens with his tongue,The enuious Load that lyes vpon his heart:And dogged Yorke, that reaches at the Moone,Whose ouer-weening Arme I haue pluckt back,By false accuse doth leuell at my Life.And you, my Soueraigne Lady, with the rest,Causelesse haue lay'd disgraces on my head,And with your best endeuour haue stirr'd vpMy liefest Liege to be mine Enemie:I, all of you haue lay'd your heads together,My selfe had notice of your Conuenticles,And all to make away my guiltlesse Life.I shall not want false Witnesse, to condemne me,Nor store of Treasons, to augment my guilt:The ancient Prouerbe will be well effected,A Staffe is quickly found to beat a Dogge
Card. My Liege, his rayling is intollerable.If those that care to keepe your Royall PersonFrom Treasons secret Knife, and Traytors Rage,Be thus vpbrayded, chid, and rated at,And the Offendor graunted scope of speech,'Twill make them coole in zeale vnto your Grace
Suff. Hath he not twit our Soueraigne Lady hereWith ignominious words, though Clarkely coucht?As if she had suborned some to sweareFalse allegations, to o'rethrow his state
Qu. But I can giue the loser leaue to chide
Glost. Farre truer spoke then meant: I lose indeede,Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false,And well such losers may haue leaue to speake
Buck. Hee'le wrest the sence, and hold vs here all day.Lord Cardinall, he is your Prisoner
Card. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure
Glost. Ah, thus King Henry throwes away his Crutch,Before his Legges be firme to beare his Body.Thus is the Shepheard beaten from thy side,And Wolues are gnarling, who shall gnaw thee first.Ah that my feare were false, ah that it were;For good King Henry, thy decay I feare.
Exit Gloster.
King. My Lords, what to your wisdomes seemeth best,Doe, or vndoe, as if our selfe were here
Queene. What, will your Highnesse leaue the Parliament?King. I Margaret: my heart is drown'd with griefe,Whose floud begins to flowe within mine eyes;My Body round engyrt with miserie:For what's more miserable then Discontent?Ah Vnckle Humfrey, in thy face I seeThe Map of Honor, Truth, and Loyaltie:And yet, good Humfrey, is the houre to come,That ere I prou'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith.What lowring Starre now enuies thy estate?That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queene,Doe seeke subuersion of thy harmelesse Life.Thou neuer didst them wrong, nor no man wrong:And as the Butcher takes away the Calfe,And binds the Wretch, and beats it when it strayes,Bearing it to the bloody Slaughter-house;Euen so remorselesse haue they borne him hence:And as the Damme runnes lowing vp and downe,Looking the way her harmelesse young one went,And can doe naught but wayle her Darlings losse;Euen so my selfe bewayles good Glosters caseWith sad vnhelpefull teares, and with dimn'd eyes;Looke after him, and cannot doe him good:So mightie are his vowed Enemies.His fortunes I will weepe, and 'twixt each groane,Say, who's a Traytor? Gloster he is none.Enter.
Queene. Free Lords:Cold Snow melts with the Sunnes hot Beames:Henry, my Lord, is cold in great Affaires,Too full of foolish pittie: and Glosters shewBeguiles him, as the mournefull CrocodileWith sorrow snares relenting passengers;Or as the Snake, roll'd in a flowring Banke,With shining checker'd slough doth sting a Child,That for the beautie thinkes it excellent.Beleeue me Lords, were none more wise then I,And yet herein I iudge mine owne Wit good;This Gloster should be quickly rid the World,To rid vs from the feare we haue of him
Card. That he should dye, is worthie pollicie,But yet we want a Colour for his death:'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of Law
Suff. But in my minde, that were no pollicie:The King will labour still to saue his Life,The Commons haply rise, to saue his Life;And yet we haue but triuiall argument,More then mistrust, that shewes him worthy death
Yorke. So that by this, you would not haue him dye
Suff. Ah Yorke, no man aliue, so faine as I
Yorke. 'Tis Yorke that hath more reason for his death.But my Lord Cardinall, and you my Lord of Suffolke,Say as you thinke, and speake it from your Soules:Wer't not all one, an emptie Eagle were set,To guard the Chicken from a hungry Kyte,As place Duke Humfrey for the Kings Protector?Queene. So the poore Chicken should be sure of death
Suff. Madame 'tis true: and wer't not madnesse then,To make the Fox surueyor of the Fold?Who being accus'd a craftie Murtherer,His guilt should be but idly posted ouer,Because his purpose is not executed.No: let him dye, in that he is a Fox,By nature prou'd an Enemie to the Flock,Before his Chaps be stayn'd with Crimson blood,As Humfrey prou'd by Reasons to my Liege.And doe not stand on Quillets how to slay him:Be it by Gynnes, by Snares, by Subtletie,Sleeping, or Waking, 'tis no matter how,So he be dead; for that is good deceit,Which mates him first, that first intends deceit
Queene. Thrice Noble Suffolke, 'tis resolutely spoke
Suff. Not resolute, except so much were done,For things are often spoke, and seldome meant,But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,Seeing the deed is meritorious,And to preserue my Soueraigne from his Foe,Say but the word, and I will be his Priest
Card. But I would haue him dead, my Lord of Suffolke,Ere you can take due Orders for a Priest:Say you consent, and censure well the deed,And Ile prouide his Executioner,I tender so the safetie of my Liege
Suff. Here is my Hand, the deed is worthy doing
Queene. And so say I
Yorke. And I: and now we three haue spoke it,It skills not greatly who impugnes our doome.Enter a Poste.
Post. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amaine,To signifie, that Rebels there are vp,And put the Englishmen vnto the Sword.Send Succours (Lords) and stop the Rage betime,Before the Wound doe grow vncurable;For being greene, there is great hope of helpe
Card. A Breach that craues a quick expedient stoppe.What counsaile giue you in this weightie cause?Yorke. That Somerset be sent as Regent thither:'Tis meet that luckie Ruler be imploy'd,Witnesse the fortune he hath had in France
Som. If Yorke, with all his farre-fet pollicie,Had beene the Regent there, in stead of me,He neuer would haue stay'd in France so long
Yorke. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done.I rather would haue lost my Life betimes,Then bring a burthen of dis-honour home,By staying there so long, till all were lost.Shew me one skarre, character'd on thy Skinne,Mens flesh preseru'd so whole, doe seldome winne
Qu. Nay then, this sparke will proue a raging fire,If Wind and Fuell be brought, to feed it with:No more, good Yorke; sweet Somerset be still.Thy fortune, Yorke, hadst thou beene Regent there,Might happily haue prou'd farre worse then his
Yorke. What, worse then naught? nay, then a shametake all
Somerset. And in the number, thee, that wishestshame
Card. My Lord of Yorke, trie what your fortune is:Th' vnciuill Kernes of Ireland are in Armes,And temper Clay with blood of Englishmen.To Ireland will you leade a Band of men,Collected choycely, from each Countie some,And trie your hap against the Irishmen?Yorke. I will, my Lord, so please his Maiestie
Suff. Why, our Authoritie is his consent,And what we doe establish, he confirmes:Then, Noble Yorke, take thou this Taske in hand
Yorke. I am content: Prouide me Souldiers, Lords,Whiles I take order for mine owne affaires
Suff. A charge, Lord Yorke, that I will see perform'd.But now returne we to the false Duke Humfrey
Card. No more of him: for I will deale with him,That henceforth he shall trouble vs no more:And so breake off, the day is almost spent,Lord Suffolke, you and I must talke of that euent
Yorke. My Lord of Suffolke, within foureteene dayesAt Bristow I expect my Souldiers,For there Ile shippe them all for Ireland
Suff. Ile see it truly done, my Lord of Yorke.
Exeunt.
Manet Yorke.
Yorke. Now Yorke, or neuer, steele thy fearfull thoughts,And change misdoubt to resolution;Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art;Resigne to death, it is not worth th' enioying:Let pale-fac't feare keepe with the meane-borne man,And finde no harbor in a Royall heart.Faster the[n] Spring-time showres, comes thoght on thoght,And not a thought, but thinkes on Dignitie.My Brayne, more busie then the laboring Spider,Weaues tedious Snares to trap mine Enemies.Well Nobles, well: 'tis politikely done,To send me packing with an Hoast of men:I feare me, you but warme the starued Snake,Who cherisht in your breasts, will sting your hearts.'Twas men I lackt, and you will giue them me;I take it kindly: yet be well assur'd,You put sharpe Weapons in a mad-mans hands.Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mightie Band,I will stirre vp in England some black Storme,Shall blowe ten thousand Soules to Heauen, or Hell:And this fell Tempest shall not cease to rage,Vntill the Golden Circuit on my Head,Like to the glorious Sunnes transparant Beames,Doe calme the furie of this mad-bred Flawe.And for a minister of my intent,I haue seduc'd a head-strong Kentishman,Iohn Cade of Ashford,To make Commotion, as full well he can,Vnder the title of Iohn Mortimer.In Ireland haue I seene this stubborne CadeOppose himselfe against a Troupe of Kernes,And fought so long, till that his thighes with DartsWere almost like a sharpe-quill'd Porpentine:And in the end being rescued, I haue seeneHim capre vpright, like a wilde Morisco,Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells.Full often, like a shag-hayr'd craftie Kerne,Hath he conuersed with the Enemie,And vndiscouer'd, come to me againe,And giuen me notice of their Villanies.This Deuill here shall be my substitute;For that Iohn Mortimer, which now is dead,In face, in gate, in speech he doth resemble.By this, I shall perceiue the Commons minde,How they affect the House and Clayme of Yorke.Say he be taken, rackt, and tortured;I know, no paine they can inflict vpon him,Will make him say, I mou'd him to those Armes.Say that he thriue, as 'tis great like he will,Why then from Ireland come I with my strength,And reape the Haruest which that Rascall sow'd.For Humfrey; being dead, as he shall be,And Henry put apart: the next for me.Enter.
Enter two or three running ouer the Stage, from the Murther ofDukeHumfrey.
1. Runne to my Lord of Suffolke: let him knowWe haue dispatcht the Duke, as he commanded
2. Oh, that it were to doe: what haue we done? Didst euer heare a man so penitent? Enter Suffolke.
1. Here comes my Lord
Suff. Now Sirs, haue you dispatcht this thing?1. I, my good Lord, hee's dead
Suff. Why that's well said. Goe, get you to my House,I will reward you for this venturous deed:The King and all the Peeres are here at hand.Haue you layd faire the Bed? Is all things well,According as I gaue directions?1. 'Tis, my good Lord
Suff. Away, be gone.
Exeunt.
Sound Trumpets. Enter the King, the Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke, Somerset, with Attendants.
King. Goe call our Vnckle to our presence straight:Say, we intend to try his Grace to day,If he be guiltie, as 'tis published
Suff. Ile call him presently, my Noble Lord.Enter
King. Lords take your places: and I pray you allProceed no straiter 'gainst our Vnckle Gloster,Then from true euidence, of good esteeme,He be approu'd in practise culpable
Queene. God forbid any Malice should preuayle,That faultlesse may condemne a Noble man:Pray God he may acquit him of suspition
King. I thanke thee Nell, these wordes content meemuch.Enter Suffolke.
How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou?Where is our Vnckle? what's the matter, Suffolke?Suff. Dead in his Bed, my Lord: Gloster is dead
Queene. Marry God forfend
Card. Gods secret Iudgement: I did dreame to Night,The Duke was dumbe, and could not speake a word.
King sounds.
Qu. How fares my Lord? Helpe Lords, the King is dead
Som. Rere vp his Body, wring him by the Nose
Qu. Runne, goe, helpe, helpe: Oh Henry ope thine eyes
Suff. He doth reuiue againe, Madame be patient
King. Oh Heauenly God
Qu. How fares my gracious Lord?Suff. Comfort my Soueraigne, gracious Henry comfort
King. What, doth my Lord of Suffolke comfort me?Came he right now to sing a Rauens Note,Whose dismall tune bereft my Vitall powres:And thinkes he, that the chirping of a Wren,By crying comfort from a hollow breast,Can chase away the first-conceiued sound?Hide not thy poyson with such sugred words,Lay not thy hands on me: forbeare I say,Their touch affrights me as a Serpents sting.Thou balefull Messenger, out of my sight:Vpon thy eye-balls, murderous TyrannieSits in grim Maiestie, to fright the World.Looke not vpon me, for thine eyes are wounding;Yet doe not goe away: come Basiliske,And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight:For in the shade of death, I shall finde ioy;In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead
Queene. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolke thus?Although the Duke was enemie to him,Yet he most Christian-like laments his death:And for my selfe, Foe as he was to me,Might liquid teares, or heart-offending groanes,Or blood-consuming sighes recall his Life;I would be blinde with weeping, sicke with grones,Looke pale as Prim-rose with blood-drinking sighes,And all to haue the Noble Duke aliue.What know I how the world may deeme of me?For it is knowne we were but hollow Friends:It may be iudg'd I made the Duke away,So shall my name with Slanders tongue be wounded,And Princes Courts be fill'd with my reproach:This get I by his death: Aye me vnhappie,To be a Queene, and Crown'd with infamie
King. Ah woe is me for Gloster, wretched man
Queen. Be woe for me, more wretched then he is.What, Dost thou turne away, and hide thy face?I am no loathsome Leaper, looke on me.What? Art thou like the Adder waxen deafe?Be poysonous too, and kill thy forlorne Queene.Is all thy comfort shut in Glosters Tombe?Why then Dame Elianor was neere thy ioy.Erect his Statue, and worship it,And make my Image but an Ale-house signe.Was I for this nye wrack'd vpon the Sea,And twice by aukward winde from Englands bankeDroue backe againe vnto my Natiue Clime.What boaded this? but well fore-warning windeDid seeme to say, seeke not a Scorpions Nest,Nor set no footing on this vnkinde Shore.What did I then? But curst the gentle gusts,And he that loos'd them forth their Brazen Caues,And bid them blow towards Englands blessed shore,Or turne our Sterne vpon a dreadfull Rocke:Yet aeolus would not be a murtherer,But left that hatefull office vnto thee.The pretty vaulting Sea refus'd to drowne me,Knowing that thou wouldst haue me drown'd on shoreWith teares as salt as Sea, through thy vnkindnesse.The splitting Rockes cowr'd in the sinking sands,And would not dash me with their ragged sides,Because thy flinty heart more hard then they,Might in thy Pallace, perish Elianor.As farre as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffes,When from thy Shore, the Tempest beate vs backe,I stood vpon the Hatches in the storme:And when the duskie sky, began to robMy earnest-gaping-sight of thy Lands view,I tooke a costly Iewell from my necke,A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds,And threw it towards thy Land: The Sea receiu'd it,And so I wish'd thy body might my Heart:And euen with this, I lost faire Englands view,And bid mine eyes be packing with my Heart,And call'd them blinde and duskie Spectacles,For loosing ken of Albions wished Coast.How often haue I tempted Suffolkes tongue(The agent of thy foule inconstancie)To sit and watch me as Ascanius did,When he to madding Dido would vnfoldHis Fathers Acts, commenc'd in burning Troy.Am I not witcht like her? Or thou not false like him?Aye me, I can no more: Dye Elinor,For Henry weepes, that thou dost liue so long.
Noyse within. Enter Warwicke, and many Commons.
War. It is reported, mighty Soueraigne,That good Duke Humfrey Traiterously is murdredBy Suffolke, and the Cardinall Beaufords meanes:The Commons like an angry Hiue of BeesThat want their Leader, scatter vp and downe,And care not who they sting in his reuenge.My selfe haue calm'd their spleenfull mutinie,Vntill they heare the order of his death
King. That he is dead good Warwick, 'tis too true,But how he dyed, God knowes, not Henry:Enter his Chamber, view his breathlesse Corpes,And comment then vpon his sodaine death
War. That shall I do my Liege; Stay SalsburieWith the rude multitude, till I returne
King. O thou that iudgest all things, stay my thoghts:My thoughts, that labour to perswade my soule,Some violent hands were laid on Humfries life:If my suspect be false, forgiue me God,For iudgement onely doth belong to thee:Faine would I go to chafe his palie lips,With twenty thousand kisses, and to draineVpon his face an Ocean of salt teares,To tell my loue vnto his dumbe deafe trunke,And with my fingers feele his hand, vnfeeling:But all in vaine are these meane Obsequies,
Bed put forth.
And to suruey his dead and earthy Image:What were it but to make my sorrow greater?Warw. Come hither gracious Soueraigne, view thisbody
King. That is to see how deepe my graue is made,For with his soule fled all my worldly solace:For seeing him, I see my life in death
War. As surely as my soule intends to liueWith that dread King that tooke our state vpon him,To free vs from his Fathers wrathfull curse,I do beleeue that violent hands were laidVpon the life of this thrice-famed Duke
Suf. A dreadfull Oath, sworne with a solemn tongue:What instance giues Lord Warwicke for his vow
War. See how the blood is setled in his face.Oft haue I seene a timely-parted Ghost,Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodlesse,Being all descended to the labouring heart,Who in the Conflict that it holds with death,Attracts the same for aydance 'gainst the enemy,Which with the heart there cooles, and ne're returneth,To blush and beautifie the Cheeke againe.But see, his face is blacke, and full of blood:His eye-balles further out, than when he liued,Staring full gastly, like a strangled man:His hayre vprear'd, his nostrils stretcht with strugling:His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasptAnd tugg'd for Life, and was by strength subdude.Looke on the sheets his haire (you see) is sticking,His well proportion'd Beard, made ruffe and rugged,Like to the Summers Corne by Tempest lodged:It cannot be but he was murdred heere,The least of all these signes were probable
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 darehim?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 BedSome sterne vntutur'd Churle; and Noble StockWas 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 KneeMake 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 yourminde.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 Lordof 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 allbreake 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 curssethem?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 breakeShould 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 Iprethee?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 GhostWere 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 thySoueraigne
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 ApothecarieBring 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 IadesThat dragge the Tragicke melancholy night:Who with their drowsie, slow, and flagging wingsCleape 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 headMate. 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 LancasterMust 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 dirtTroubles 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 LordVnto 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 PiccardieHath 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 coloursAduance 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 ThunderVpon these paltry, seruile, abiect Drudges:Small things make base men proud. This Villaine heere,Being Captaine of a Pinnace, threatens moreThen Bargulus the strong Illyrian Pyrate.Drones sucke not Eagles blood, but rob Bee-hiues:It is impossible that I should dyeBy 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 theeto 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 theseWith humble suite: no, rather let my headStoope 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 slaueMurder'd sweet Tully. Brutus Bastard handStab'd Iulius Cęsar. Sauage IslandersPompey 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 aLath, 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 inHandy-crafts men
Hol. The Nobilitie thinke scorne to goe in LeatherAprons
Beuis. Nay more, the Kings Councell are no goodWorkemen
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 abraue minde, then a hard hand
Hol. I see them, I see them: There's Bests Sonne, theTanner of Wingham
Beuis. Hee shall haue the skinnes of our enemies, tomake 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 manyLaces
Weauer. But now of late, not able to trauell with herfurr'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 ofproofe
But. But me thinks he should stand in feare of fire, beingburnt 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'tCade. Nay then he is a Coniurer
But. Nay, he can make Obligations, and write Courthand
Cade. I am sorry for't: The man is a proper man ofmine Honour: vnlesse I finde him guilty he shall not die.Come hither sirrah, I must examine thee: What is thyname?Clearke. Emanuell
But. They vse to writ it on the top of Letters: 'Twillgo 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 dealingman?Clearke. Sir I thanke God, I haue bin so well broughtvp, that I can write my name
All. He hath confest: away with him: he's a Villaineand a Traitor
Cade. Away with him I say: Hang him with his Penand 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 brotherare hard by, with the Kings Forces
Cade. Stand villaine, stand, or Ile fell thee downe: heshall be encountred with a man as good as himselfe. Heis 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 andSoldiers.
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.