SCENE III. London. CARDINAL BEAUFORT'S bedchamber
Enter the KING, SALISBURY, and WARWICK, to the CARDINAL in bed
KING HENRY. How fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.
CARDINAL. If thou be'st Death I'll give thee England's treasure,
Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain.
KING HENRY. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life
Where death's approach is seen so terrible!
WARWICK. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.
CARDINAL. Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Died he not in his bed? Where should he die?
Can I make men live, whe'er they will or no?
O, torture me no more! I will confess.
Alive again? Then show me where he is;
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.
Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul!
Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
KING HENRY. O Thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
O, beat away the busy meddling fiend
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair!
WARWICK. See how the pangs of death do make him grin
SALISBURY. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.
KING HENRY. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!
Lord Card'nal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.
He dies, and makes no sign: O God, forgive him!
WARWICK. So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
KING HENRY. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation. Exeunt
ACT IV.
SCENE I. The coast of Kent
Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a LIEUTENANT, a SHIPMASTER and his MATE, and WALTER WHITMORE, with sailors; SUFFOLK and other GENTLEMEN, as prisoners
LIEUTENANT. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
Is crept into the bosom of the sea;
And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades
That drag the tragic melancholy night;
Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings
Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.
Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize;
For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs,
Here shall they make their ransom on the sand,
Or with their blood stain this discoloured shore.
Master, this prisoner freely give I thee;
And thou that art his mate make boot of this;
The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. What is my ransom, master, let me know?
MASTER. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.
MATE. And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.
LIEUTENANT. What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns,
And bear the name and port of gentlemen?
Cut both the villains' throats- for die you shall;
The lives of those which we have lost in fight
Be counterpois'd with such a petty sum!
FIRST GENTLEMAN. I'll give it, sir: and therefore spare my life.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. And so will I, and write home for it straight.
WHITMORE. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard,
[To SUFFOLK] And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die;
And so should these, if I might have my will.
LIEUTENANT. Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live.
SUFFOLK. Look on my George, I am a gentleman:
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.
WHITMORE. And so am I: my name is Walter Whitmore.
How now! Why start'st thou? What, doth death affright?
SUFFOLK. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.
A cunning man did calculate my birth
And told me that by water I should die;
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded;
Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded.
WHITMORE. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not:
Never yet did base dishonour blur our name
But with our sword we wip'd away the blot;
Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge,
Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd,
And I proclaim'd a coward through the world.
SUFFOLK. Stay, Whitmore, for thy prisoner is a prince,
The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.
WHITMORE. The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags?
SUFFOLK. Ay, but these rags are no part of the Duke:
Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I?
LIEUTENANT. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.
SUFFOLK. Obscure and lowly swain, King Henry's blood,
The honourable blood of Lancaster,
Must not be shed by such a jaded groom.
Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand and held my stirrup,
Bareheaded plodded by my foot-cloth mule,
And thought thee happy when I shook my head?
How often hast thou waited at my cup,
Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board,
When I have feasted with Queen Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee crestfall'n,
Ay, and allay thus thy abortive pride,
How in our voiding-lobby hast thou stood
And duly waited for my coming forth.
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,
And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue.
WHITMORE. Speak, Captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain?
LIEUTENANT. First let my words stab him, as he hath me.
SUFFOLK. Base slave, thy words are blunt, and so art thou.
LIEUTENANT. Convey him hence, and on our longboat's side Strike off his head.
SUFFOLK. Thou dar'st not, for thy own.
LIEUTENANT. Poole!
SUFFOLK. Poole?
LIEUTENANT. Ay, kennel, puddle, sink, whose filth and dirt
Troubles the silver spring where England drinks;
Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth
For swallowing the treasure of the realm.
Thy lips, that kiss'd the Queen, shall sweep the ground;
And thou that smil'dst at good Duke Humphrey's death
Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain,
Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again;
And wedded be thou to the hags of hell
For daring to affy a mighty lord
Unto the daughter of a worthless king,
Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem.
By devilish policy art thou grown great,
And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd
With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart.
By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France;
The false revolting Normans thorough thee
Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy
Hath slain their governors, surpris'd our forts,
And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home.
The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,
Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,
As hating thee, are rising up in arms;
And now the house of York- thrust from the crown
By shameful murder of a guiltless king
And lofty proud encroaching tyranny-
Burns with revenging fire, whose hopeful colours
Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine,
Under the which is writ 'Invitis nubibus.'
The commons here in Kent are up in arms;
And to conclude, reproach and beggary
Is crept into the palace of our King,
And all by thee. Away! convey him hence.
SUFFOLK. O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder
Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges!
Small things make base men proud: this villain here,
Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more
Than Bargulus, the strong Illyrian pirate.
Drones suck not eagles' blood but rob beehives.
It is impossible that I should die
By such a lowly vassal as thyself.
Thy words move rage and not remorse in me.
I go of message from the Queen to France:
I charge thee waft me safely cross the Channel.
LIEUTENANT. Walter-
WHITMORE. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.
SUFFOLK. Gelidus timor occupat artus: it is thee I fear.
WHITMORE. Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee.
What, are ye daunted now? Now will ye stoop?
FIRST GENTLEMAN. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair.
SUFFOLK. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stem and rough,
Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour.
Far be it we should honour such as these
With humble suit: no, rather let my head
Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any
Save to the God of heaven and to my king;
And sooner dance upon a bloody pole
Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom.
True nobility is exempt from fear:
More can I bear than you dare execute.
LIEUTENANT. Hale him away, and let him talk no more.
SUFFOLK. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can,
That this my death may never be forgot-
Great men oft die by vile bezonians:
A Roman sworder and banditto slave
Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand
Stabb'd Julius Caesar; savage islanders
Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates.
Exit WALTER with SUFFOLK
LIEUTENANT. And as for these, whose ransom we have set,
It is our pleasure one of them depart;
Therefore come you with us, and let him go.
Exeunt all but the FIRST GENTLEMAN
Re-enter WHITMORE with SUFFOLK'S body
WHITMORE. There let his head and lifeless body lie,
Until the Queen his mistress bury it. Exit
FIRST GENTLEMAN. O barbarous and bloody spectacle!
His body will I bear unto the King.
If he revenge it not, yet will his friends;
So will the Queen, that living held him dear.
Exit with the body
SCENE II. Blackheath
Enter GEORGE BEVIS and JOHN HOLLAND GEORGE. Come and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have been up these two days.
JOHN. They have the more need to sleep now, then.
GEORGE. I tell thee Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.
JOHN. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up.
GEORGE. O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen.
JOHN. The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.
GEORGE. Nay, more, the King's Council are no good workmen.
JOHN. 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.
GEORGE. Thou hast hit it; for there's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.
JOHN. I see them! I see them! There's Best's son, the tanner of Wingham-
GEORGE. He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's leather of.
JOHN. And Dick the butcher-
GEORGE. Then is sin struck down, like an ox, and iniquity's throat cut like a calf.
JOHN. And Smith the weaver-
GEORGE. Argo, their thread of life is spun.
JOHN. Come, come, let's fall in with them.
Drum. Enter CADE, DICK THE BUTCHER, SMITH THE WEAVER, and a SAWYER, with infinite numbers
CADE. We John Cade, so term'd of our supposed father-
DICK. [Aside] Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings.
CADE. For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes- command silence.
DICK. Silence!
CADE. My father was a Mortimer-
DICK. [Aside] He was an honest man and a good bricklayer.
CADE. My mother a Plantagenet-
DICK. [Aside] I knew her well; she was a midwife.
CADE. My wife descended of the Lacies-
DICK. [Aside] She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, and sold many laces.
SMITH. [Aside] But now of late, not able to travel with her furr'd pack, she washes bucks here at home.
CADE. Therefore am I of an honourable house.
DICK. [Aside] Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable, and there was he born, under a hedge, for his father had never a house but the cage.
CADE. Valiant I am.
SMITH. [Aside] 'A must needs; for beggary is valiant.
CADE. I am able to endure much.
DICK. [Aside] No question of that; for I have seen him whipt three market days together.
CADE. I fear neither sword nor fire.
SMITH. [Aside] He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof.
DICK. [Aside] But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i' th' hand for stealing of sheep.
CADE. Be brave, then, for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny; the three-hoop'd pot shall have ten hoops;
and I will make it felony to drink small beer. All the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And when I am king- as king I will be
ALL. God save your Majesty!
CADE. I thank you, good people- there shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score, and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers and worship me their lord.
DICK. The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
CADE. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment?
That parchment, being scribbl'd o'er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings; but I say 'tis the bee's wax; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. How now!
Who's there?
Enter some, bringing in the CLERK OF CHATHAM
SMITH. The clerk of Chatham. He can write and read and cast accompt.
CADE. O monstrous!
SMITH. We took him setting of boys' copies.
CADE. Here's a villain!
SMITH. Has a book in his pocket with red letters in't.
CADE. Nay, then he is a conjurer.
DICK. Nay, he can make obligations and write court-hand.
CADE. I am sorry for't; the man is a proper man, of mine honour;
unless I find him guilty, he shall not die. Come hither, sirrah, I must examine thee. What is thy name?
CLERK. Emmanuel.
DICK. They use to write it on the top of letters; 'twill go hard with you.
CADE. Let me alone. Dost thou use to write thy name, or hast thou a mark to thyself, like a honest plain-dealing man?
CLERK. Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up that I can write my name.
ALL. He hath confess'd. Away with him! He's a villain and a traitor.
CADE. Away with him, I say! Hang him with his pen and inkhorn about his neck. Exit one with the CLERK
Enter MICHAEL
MICHAEL. Where's our General?
CADE. Here I am, thou particular fellow.
MICHAEL. Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with the King's forces.
CADE. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down. He shall be encount'red with a man as good as himself. He is but a knight, is 'a?
MICHAEL. No.
CADE. To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently.
[Kneels] Rise up, Sir John Mortimer. [Rises] Now have at him!
Enter SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD and WILLIAM his brother, with drum and soldiers
STAFFORD. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent,
Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down;
Home to your cottages, forsake this groom;
The King is merciful if you revolt.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to blood,
If you go forward; therefore yield or die.
CADE. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not;
It is to you, good people, that I speak,
O'er whom, in time to come, I hope to reign;
For I am rightful heir unto the crown.
STAFFORD. Villain, thy father was a plasterer;
And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not?
CADE. And Adam was a gardener.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. And what of that?
CADE. Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March,
Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter, did he not?
STAFFORD. Ay, sir.
CADE. By her he had two children at one birth.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. That's false.
CADE. Ay, there's the question; but I say 'tis true.
The elder of them being put to nurse,
Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away,
And, ignorant of his birth and parentage,
Became a bricklayer when he came to age.
His son am I; deny it if you can.
DICK. Nay, 'tis too true; therefore he shall be king.
SMITH. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not.
STAFFORD. And will you credit this base drudge's words That speaks he knows not what?
ALL. Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this.
CADE. [Aside] He lies, for I invented it myself- Go to, sirrah, tell the King from me that for his father's sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns, I am content he shall reign; but I'll be Protector over him.
DICK. And furthermore, we'll have the Lord Say's head for selling the dukedom of Maine.
CADE. And good reason; for thereby is England main'd and fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell you that that Lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth and made it an eunuch; and more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a traitor.
STAFFORD. O gross and miserable ignorance!
CADE. Nay, answer if you can; the Frenchmen are our enemies. Go to, then, I ask but this: can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good counsellor, or no?
ALL. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head.
WILLIAM STAFFORD. Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail, Assail them with the army of the King.
STAFFORD. Herald, away; and throughout every town
Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade;
That those which fly before the battle ends
May, even in their wives'and children's sight,
Be hang'd up for example at their doors.
And you that be the King's friends, follow me.
Exeunt the TWO STAFFORDS and soldiers
CADE. And you that love the commons follow me.
Now show yourselves men; 'tis for liberty.
We will not leave one lord, one gentleman;
Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon,
For they are thrifty honest men and such
As would- but that they dare not- take our parts.
DICK. They are all in order, and march toward us.
CADE. But then are we in order when we are most out of order.
Come, march forward. Exeunt
SCENE III. Another part of Blackheath
Alarums to the fight, wherein both the STAFFORDS are slain.
Enter CADE and the rest
CADE. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford?
DICK. Here, sir.
CADE. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter-house;
therefore thus will I reward thee- the Lent shall be as long again as it is, and thou shalt have a licence to kill for a hundred lacking one.
DICK. I desire no more.
CADE. And, to speak truth, thou deserv'st no less. [Putting on SIR
HUMPHREY'S brigandine] 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.
DICK. If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the gaols and let out the prisoners.
CADE. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's march towards
London. Exeunt
SCENE IV. London. The palace
Enter the KING with a supplication, and the QUEEN with SUFFOLK'S head; the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, and the LORD SAY
QUEEN. 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. 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. Ah, barbarous villains! Hath this lovely face
Rul'd like a wandering planet over me,
And could it not enforce them to relent
That were unworthy to behold the same?
KING HENRY. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.
SAY. Ay, but I hope your Highness shall have his.
KING HENRY. How now, madam!
Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death?
I fear me, love, if that I had been dead,
Thou wouldst not have mourn'd so much for me.
QUEEN. No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee.
Enter A MESSENGER
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 Killingworth
Until a power be rais'd to put them down.
QUEEN. Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive,
These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd!
KING HENRY. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee;
Therefore away with us to Killingworth.
SAY. 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. Jack Cade hath 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. Then linger not, my lord; away, take horse.
KING HENRY. Come Margaret; God, our hope, will succour us.
QUEEN. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceas'd.
KING HENRY. [To LORD SAY] Farewell, my lord, trust not the Kentish rebels.
BUCKINGHAM. Trust nobody, for fear you be betray'd.
SAY. The trust I have is in mine innocence,
And therefore am I bold and resolute. Exeunt