Part 76

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 kissed 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, kneeled down at the board, When I have feasted with Queen Margaret? Remember it, and let it make thee crestfallen, 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. Yes, poll!

SUFFOLK. Pole!

LIEUTENANT. Pool! Sir Pool! Lord! 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 kissed the Queen shall sweep the ground; And thou that smiledst 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, overgorged 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, surprised our forts, And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. The princely Warwick, and the Nevilles 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-faced 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. _Pene 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?

1 GENTLEMAN. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair.

SUFFOLK. Suffolk’s imperial tongue is stern and rough, Used 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 uncovered 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 Murdered sweet Tully; Brutus’ bastard hand Stabbed Julius Caesar; savage islanders Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates.

[_Exeunt Whitmore and others 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 1 Gentleman._]

Enter Whitmore with Suffolk’s body and head.

WHITMORE. There let his head and lifeless body lie, Until the Queen his mistress bury it.

[_Exit._]

1 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.

BEVIS. Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have been up these two days.

HOLLAND. They have the more need to sleep now, then.

BEVIS. I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.

HOLLAND. So he had need, for ’tis threadbare. Well, I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up.

BEVIS. O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen.

HOLLAND. The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.

BEVIS. Nay, more, the King’s Council are no good workmen.

HOLLAND. 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.

BEVIS. Thou hast hit it; for there’s no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.

HOLLAND. I see them! I see them! There’s Best’s son, the tanner of Wingham.

BEVIS. He shall have the skin of our enemies, to make dog’s leather of.

HOLLAND. And Dick the butcher.

BEVIS. Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity’s throat cut like a calf.

HOLLAND. And Smith the weaver.

BEVIS. Argo, their thread of life is spun.

HOLLAND. Come, come, let’s fall in with them.

Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the Butcher, Smith the Weaver and a Sawyer with infinite numbers carrying long staves.

CADE. We, John Cade, so termed 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 pedler’s daughter, and sold many laces.

SMITH. [_Aside_.] But now of late, not able to travel with her furred 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_.] He must needs; for beggary is valiant.

CADE. I am able to endure much.

DICK. [_Aside_.] No question of that; for I have seen him whipped 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-hooped 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 scribbled 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 Chartham.

SMITH. The clerk of Chartham. He can write and read and cast account.

CADE. O, monstrous!

SMITH. We took him setting of boys’ copies.

CADE. Here’s a villain!

SMITH. H’as 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 confessed. 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 encountered with a man as good as himself. He is but a knight, is he?

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 his Brother with Drum and soldiers.

STAFFORD. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, Marked for the gallows, lay your weapons down; Home to your cottages, forsake this groom. The King is merciful, if you revolt.

BROTHER. But angry, wrathful, and inclined 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, Over 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.

BROTHER. 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.

BROTHER. 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 stolen 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.

BROTHER. 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 Saye’s head for selling the dukedom of Maine.

CADE. And good reason, for thereby is England mained and fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell you that that Lord Saye 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.

BROTHER. 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 hanged 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 behaved’st thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughterhouse. 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 deservest no less. This monument of the victory will I bear. [_putting on Sir Humphrey’s brigandine_] 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 Saye.

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. 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. [_Aside_.] 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. 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 mourned so much for me.

QUEEN MARGARET. 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 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 traitors hate thee; Therefore away with us to Killingworth.

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.

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 MARGARET. [_Aside_.] My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceased.

KING HENRY. Farewell, my lord. Trust not the Kentish rebels.

BUCKINGHAM. Trust nobody, for fear you be betrayed.

SAYE. The trust I have is in mine innocence, And therefore am I bold and resolute.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE V. London. The Tower

Enter Lord Scales upon the Tower, walking. Then enter two or three Citizens below.

SCALES. How now? Is Jack Cade slain?

1 CITIZEN. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they have won the Bridge, killing all those that withstand them. The Lord Mayor craves 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 assayed to win the Tower. But get you to Smithfield and gather head, And thither I will send you Matthew Gough. Fight for your king, your country, and your lives! And so farewell, for I must hence again.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE VI. London. Cannon Street

Enter Jack Cade and the rest, and strikes his staff 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 other than Lord Mortimer.

Enter a Soldier, running.

SOLDIER. Jack Cade! Jack Cade!

CADE. Knock him down there.

[_They kill him._]

DICK. If this fellow be wise, he’ll never call ye Jack Cade more. I think he hath a very fair warning. My lord, there’s an army gathered together in Smithfield.

CADE. Come then, let’s go fight with them. But first, go and set London Bridge on fire; and, if you can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let’s away.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE VII. London. Smithfield

Alarums. Matthew Gough is slain, and all the rest. Then enter Jack Cade with his company.

CADE. So, sirs. Now go some and pull down the Savoy; others to th’ Inns of Court; 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.

HOLLAND. [_Aside_.] Mass, ’twill be sore law, then; for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and ’tis not whole yet.

SMITH. [_Aside_.] 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.

HOLLAND. [_Aside_.] 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 George Bevis with the Lord Saye.

CADE. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. 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.

DICK. And work in their shirt too; as myself, for example, that am a butcher.

SAYE. You men of Kent—

DICK. What say you of Kent?

SAYE. Nothing but this; ’tis _bona terra, mala gens_.

CADE. Away with him, away with him! He speaks Latin.

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 Kent 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.

GEORGE. 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.

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 help of hatchet.

DICK. 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. Away with him! He has a familiar under his tongue; he speaks not i’ God’s name. Go, take him away, I say, and strike off his head presently; and then break into his son-in-law’s house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither.

ALL. It shall be done.

SAYE. Ah, countrymen, if when you make your prayers, God should be so obdurate as yourselves, How would it fare with your departed souls? And therefore yet relent, and save my life.

CADE. Away with him! And do as I command ye.

[_Exeunt some with Lord Saye._]