And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not?
Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March,
Married the Duke of Clarence’ daughter, did he not?
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.
And will you credit this base drudge’s words,
That speaks he knows not what?
Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail,
Assail them with the army of the king.
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.
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.
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 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, Duke of Buckingham and the Lord Say. | |
Queen |
Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind |
Buckingham | What answer makes your grace to the rebels’ supplication? |
King |
I’ll send some holy bishop to entreat; |
Queen |
Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely face |
King | Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head. |
Say | Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his. |
King |
How now, madam! |
Queen | No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee. |
Enter a Messenger. | |
King | How now! what news? why comest thou in such haste? |
Messenger |
The rebels are in Southwark; fly, my lord! |
King | O graceless men! they know not what they do. |
Buckingham |
My gracious lord, return to Killingworth, |
Queen |
Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive, |
King |
Lord Say, the traitors hate thee; |
Say |
So might your grace’s person be in danger. |
Enter another Messenger. | |
Messenger |
Jack |