Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter-searching terms,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate,
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave:
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words:
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;
My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban:
And even now my burden'd heart would break,
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!
Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks!
Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings!
Their musick, frightful as the serpent's hiss;
And boding screech-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell ·

Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment'st thyself;

And these dread curses-like the sun 'gainst glass,
Or like an overcharged gun, - recoil,
And turn the force of them upon thyself.

Suf. You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave?
Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curse away a winter's night,
Though standing naked on a mountain top,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow,
And think it but a minute spent in sport.

Q. Mar. O, let me entreat thee, cease! Give me thy hand,

That I may dew it with my mournful tears ;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
To wash away my woeful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand;

[Kisses his hand.
That thou might'st think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee!
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee, or, be well assured,
Adventure to be banished myself:
And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go, speak not to me; even now be gone.
O, go not yet!-Even thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee!
Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company:
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world;
And where thou art not, desolation.

I can no more: — Live thou to joy thy life;
Myself no joy in nought, but that thou liv'st.

Enter VAUX.

Q. Mar. Whither goes Vaux so fast? wnat news, I pr'ythee?

Vaux. To signify unto his majesty,

For suddenly a grievous sickness took him,
That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the air,
Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth.
Sometime, he talks as if duke Humphrey's ghost
Were by his side; sometime, he calls the king,
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
The secrets of his overcharged soul:
And I am sent to tell his majesty,
That even now he cries aloud for him.

Q. Mar. Go, tell this heavy message to the king.

[Erit VAUX. Ah me! what is this world? what news are these? But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure? Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, And with the southern clouds contend in tears; Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows? Now, get thee hence: The king, thou know'st, is

coming?

If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.

Suf. If I depart from thee, I cannot live:
And in thy sight to die, what were it else,
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe,
Dying with mother's dug between its lips:
Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad,
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth;
So should'st thou either turn my flying soul,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium.

To die by thee, were but to die in jest;
From thee to die, were torture more than death:
O, let me stay, befall what may befall.

Q. Mar. Away! though parting be a fretful car rosive,

It is applied to a deathful wound.

To France, sweet Suffolk: Let me hear from thee;
For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe,
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.
Suf. I go.

Q. Mar. And take my heart with thee,
Suf. A jewel, lock'd into the woeful'st cask
That ever did contain a thing of worth.
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we;
This way fall I to death.

Q. Mar. This way for me. [Exeunt, severally.

treasure,

Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.
K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
When death's approach is seen so terrible!
War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.
Car. Bring me unto my trial, when you
will.
Died he not in his bed? where should he die?
Can I make men live, whe'r 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.
K. Hen. 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!
War. See, how the pangs of death do make him
grin.

SCENE I.- Kent. The Sea-shore near Dover. Firing heard at sea. Then enter from a boat, a Captain, a Master, a Master's-Mate, WALTER WHITMORE, and others; with them SUFFOLK, and other Gentlemen, prisoners.

Is

Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day crept into the bosom of the sea;

And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades
That drag the tragick 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 ransome on the sand,
Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore.
Master, this prisoner freely give I thee;
And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;
The other [pointing to SUFFOLK,] Walter Whit-
more, is thy share.

-

1 Gent. What is my ransome, master? let me know.

Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your

head.

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, Cannot be counterpois'd with such a petty sum. 1 Gent. I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.

2 Gent. And so will I, and write home for it straight.

Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die; [To SUF.

And so should these, if I might have my will.
Cap. Be not so rash; take ransome, let him live.
Suf. Look on my George, I am a gentleman;
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.
Whit. And so am I; my name is- Walter

Whitmore.

How now? why start'st 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 die;

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;
Ne'er 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!
[Lays hold on SUFFOLK.
Suf. Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a
prince,

The duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

Whit. The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags! Suf. Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke Jove sometime went disguis'd, And why not I? Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. Suf. 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?
Bare-headed 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 crest-fall'n;
Ay, and allay this 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.
Whit. Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn

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, surpriz'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.
Suf. 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 bee-hives.
It is impossible, that I should die

By such a lowly vassal as thyself.

I

Thy words move rage, and not remorse, în me :
go of message from the queen to France;
I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel.
Cap. Walter,

Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy

death.

Suf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern 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 beaven, 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.

Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more. Suf. 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 Cæsar; savage islanders,
Pompey the great: and Suffolk dies by pirates.

[Exit Sur. with WHIT. and others. Cap. And as for these whose ransome 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. Whit. There let his head and lifeless body lie, Until the queen his mistress bury it.

[Exit.

1 Gent. 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. Geo. 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.

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

I

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

Geo. O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handycrafts-men.

John. The nobility think scorn to go in leather

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.

Geo. 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;

Geo. He shall have the skins of our enemies, to make dog's leather of.

John. And Dick the butcher,

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

John. And Smith the weaver.

Geo. Argo, their thread of life is spun.
John. Come, come, let's fall in with them.

Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable house. Dick. 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. [4side. Cade. Valiant I am. Smith. 'A must needs; for beggary is valiant.

[Aside.

Cade. I am able to endure much. Dick. No question of that; for I have seen him whipped three market days together. [Aside. Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire. Smith. He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof. [Aside. Dick. But, methinks, he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i'the hand for stealing of sheep.

[Aside. Cade. Be brave then; for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be, in England, seven half-penny loaves sold for a penny: the threehooped 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 palfry 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 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. 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, on mine honour; unless I find him guilty, he shall hot 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 an 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.

[Exeunt some with the Clerk. Enter MICHAEL.

Mich. Where's our general?

Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow. Mich. 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 'a?

Mich. No.

Cade. To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently; Rise up sir John Mortimer. Now have at him.

Enter Sir HUMPHREY STAFFORD, and WILLIAM his brother, with drum and Forces.

Staf. 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.

W. Staf. 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.

Staf. Villain, thy father was a plasterer;
And thou thyself, a shearman, Art thou not?
Cade. And Adam was a gardener.
W. Staf. And what of that?

Cade. Marry this :- Edmund Mortimer, earl of

March,

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.

Staf. And will you credit this base drudge's words, That speaks he knows not what?

All. Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone. W. Staf. Jack Cade, the duke of York hath taught you this.

Cade. He lies, for I invented it myself. [Aside.

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 maimed, 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.

Staf. O gross and miserable ignorance! Cade. Nay, answer, if you can: The Frenchmen are cur 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. W. Staf. Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail,

Assail them with the army of the king.

Staf. 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 Forces. 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. Alarum.

The two parties enter and fight, and both the STAFFORDS are slain.

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 license 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; 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, I break open the gaois, and let out the prisoners.

Cade. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's march towards London. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. — London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, reading a supplication; the

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, and LORD SAY, with him : at a distance, QUEEN MARGARET, mourning over SUFFOLK's head.

Q. Mar. Oft have I heard mind,

that grief softens the

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?
Buck. What answer makes your grace to the
rebels' supplication?

K. Hen. 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.

Rul'd, like a wandering planet, over me:
And could it not enforce them to relent,
That were unworthy to behold the same?
K. Hen. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to
have thy head.

Say. Ay, but I hope, your highness shall have his.
K. Hen. How now, madam? Still
Lamenting, and mourning for Suffolk's death?
I fear, my love, if that I had been dead,
Thou wouldest not have mourn'd so much for me.
Q. Mar. No, my love, I should not mourn, but
die for thee.

Enter a Messenger.

K. Hen. How now! what news? why com'st thou in such haste?

Mess. 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. K. Hen. O graceless men! they know not what they do.

Buck. My gracious lord, retire to Kenelworth, Until a power be rais'd to put them down.

Q. Mar. Ah! were the duke of Suffolk now alive, These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd. K. Hen. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee, Therefore away with us to Kenelworth.

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.

2 Mess. 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.

Buck. Then linger not, my lord; away, take

horse.

K. Hen. Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will

succour us.

Q. Mar. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceas'd.

K. Hen. Farewell, my lord; [to LORD SAY.] trust not the Kentish rebels.

Buck. Trust no body, for fear you be betray'd. Say. The trust I have is in mine innocence, And therefore am I bold and resolute.

[Exeunt.

face

rebols.