Henry VI, Part II

some, and follow him;
And he that brings his head unto the king
Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. Exeunt some of them.
Follow me, soldiers: we’ll devise a mean
To reconcile you all unto the king. Exeunt.

Scene IX

Kenilworth Castle.

	Sound Trumpets. Enter King, Queen, and Somerset, on the terrace.
King	Was ever king that joy’d an earthly throne, And could command no more content than I? No sooner was I crept out of my cradle But I was made a king, at nine months old. Was never subject long’d to be a king As I do long and wish to be a subject.
	Enter Buckingham and old Clifford.
Buckingham	Health and glad tidings to your majesty!
King	Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surprised? Or is he but retired to make him strong?
	Enter, below, multitudes, with halters about their necks.
Clifford	He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield; And humbly thus, with halters on their necks, Expect your highness’ doom, of life or death.
King	Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates, To entertain my vows of thanks and praise! Soldiers, this day have you redeem’d your lives And show’d how well you love your prince and country: Continue still in this so good a mind, And Henry, though he be infortunate, Assure yourselves, will never be unkind: And so, with thanks and pardon to you all, I do dismiss you to your several countries.
All	God save the king! God save the king!
	Enter a Messenger.
Messenger	Please it your grace to be advertised The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland, And with a puissant and a mighty power Of gallowglasses and stout kerns Is marching hitherward in proud array, And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, His arms are only to remove from thee The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms traitor.
King	Thus stands my state, ’twixt Cade and York distress’d; Like to a ship that, having ’scaped a tempest, Is straightway calm’d and boarded with a pirate: But now is Cade driven back, his men dispersed; And now is York in arms to second him. I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet him, And ask him what’s the reason of these arms. Tell him I’ll send Duke Edmund to the Tower; And, Somerset, we’ll commit thee thither, Until his army be dismiss’d from him.
Somerset	My lord, I’ll yield myself to prison willingly, Or unto death, to do my country good.
King	In any case, be not too rough in terms; For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language.
Buckingham	I will, my lord; and doubt not so to deal As all things shall redound unto your good.
King	Come, wife, let’s in, and learn to govern better; For yet may England curse my wretched reign. Flourish. Exeunt.

Scene X

Kent. Iden’s garden.

	Enter Cade.
Cade	Fie on ambition! fie on myself, that have a sword, and yet am ready to famish! These five days have I hid me in these woods and durst not peep out, for all the country is laid for me; but now am I so hungry that if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years I could stay no longer. Wherefore, on a brick wall have I climbed into this garden, to see if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another while, which is not amiss to cool a man’s stomach this hot weather. And I think this word “sallet” was born to do me good: for many a time, but for a sallet, my brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill; and many a time, when I have been dry and bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a quart pot to drink in; and now the word “sallet” must serve me to feed on.
	Enter Iden.
Iden	Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court, And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? This small inheritance my father left me Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy. I seek not to wax great by others’ waning, Or gather wealth, I care not, with what envy: Sufficeth that I have maintains my state And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.
Cade	Here’s the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave. Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the king carrying my head to him: but I’ll make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part.
Iden	Why, rude companion, whatsoe’er thou be, I know thee not; why, then, should I betray thee? Is’t not enough to break into my garden, And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms?
Cade	Brave thee! ay, by the best blood that ever was broached, and beard thee too. Look on me well: I have eat no meat these five days; yet, come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as a door-nail, I pray God I may never eat grass more.
Iden	Nay, it shall ne’er be said, while England stands, That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, Took odds to combat a poor famish’d man. Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine, See if thou canst outface me with thy looks: Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; Thy hand is but a finger to my fist, Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon; My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast; And if mine arm be heaved in the air, Thy grave is digg’d already in the earth. As for words, whose greatness answers words, Let this my sword report what speech forbears.
Cade	By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard! Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God on my knees thou mayst be turned to hobnails. Here they fight. Cade falls. O, I am slain! famine and no other hath