Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
[A noise within.

Q. Mar. What noise is this?

The world shall not be ransom for thy life.-
Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me;
I have great matters to impart to thee.

[Exeunt K. Henry, Warwick, Lords, etc. Q. Mar. Mischance, and sorrow, go along with you! Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their wea-Heart's discontent, and sour affliction, pons drawn.

Be playfellows to keep you company!

K. Hen. Why, how now, lords? your wrathful There's two of you; the devil make a third,
weapons drawn

Here in our presence? dare you be SO bold?-
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
Suf. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.

Noise of a crowd within. Re-enter SALISBURY,
Sal. Sirs, stand apart; the king shall know your
mind..
[Speaking to those within.
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,
Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,

And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!
Suf. Cease, gentle queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave,

Q. Mar. Fye, coward woman, and soft-hearted

wretch!

Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?
Suf. A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse
them?

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 prospects, murdering basilisks!
Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings!
Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss;
And boding screech-owls make the concert fall!
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.

They will by violence tear him from your palace,
And torture him with grievous ling'ring death.
They say, by him the good duke Humphrey died;
They say, in him they fear your highness' death:
And mere instinct of love, and loyalty,-
Free from a stubborn opposite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking, -
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They say, in care of your most royal person,
That, if your highness should intend to sleep,
And charge that no man should disturb your rest,
In pain of your dislike, or pain of death;
Yet notwithstanding such a strait edict,
Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue,
That slily glided towards your majesty,
It were but necessary, you were wak'd;
Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal:
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, whe'r you will or no,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is;
With whose envenomed and fatal sting,
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say, is shamefully bereft of life.
Commons. [Within.] An answer from the king,
my lord of Salisbury!

Suf. "Tis like, the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds,
Could send such message to their sovereign:
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,
To show how quaint an orator you are:
But all the honour Salisbury hath won,
Is that he was the lord ambassador,
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king.
Commons. [Within.] An answer from the king, or
we'll all break in!

K. Hen. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me,
I thank them for their tender loving care:
And had I not been cited so by them,
Yet did I purpose as they do entreat;
For sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means.
And therefore, - by His majesty I swear,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am,
He shall not breathe infection in this air
But three days longer, on the pain of death.
[Exit Salisbury.
Q. Mar. O, Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk!
K. Hen. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Suffolk.
No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him,
Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.
Had I but said, I would have kept my word;
But, when I swear, it is irrevocable:
If, after three days' space, thou here be'st found
On any ground that I am ruler of,

---

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 assur'd,
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 nonght, but that thou liv'st.
Enter VAUX.

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

Vaux. To signify unto his majesty,
That cardinal Beaufort is at point of death:
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, te' his heavy message to the king.
[Exit 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
ing!

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!.
I 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 grio
Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.
K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!
Lord cardinal, 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!
War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. -
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.- Kent. com-Firing heard at sea.

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 dugs between his 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:
Ó, let me stay, befall what may befall!

Q. Mar. Away! though parting be a fretful corrosive,
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. SCENE III. London. Cardinal Beaufort's bedchamber.

Enter King HENRY, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and
Others. The Cardinal in bed; Attendants with him.
K. Hen. How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to
thy sovereign.

Car. 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.
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;

[Exeunt.

The sea-shore near Dover. Then enter from a boat, a Captain, a Master, a Master's-Mate, WALTER WHITMORE, and Others; with them SUFFOLK, and other Gentlemen, prisoners.

Cap. 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
Breath 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 shere. —
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.
Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.
Cap. What, think you much to pay two thousand

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 af-
fright?

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 Poole.
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,

Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives.
It is impossible, that I should die
By such a lowly vassal as thyself.
Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me:
go of message from the queen to France;
I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel.
Cap. Walter,-

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 swain?
Cap. First let my words stab him, as he hath me.
Suf. Base slave! thy words are blunt, and so art thou.
Cap. Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's side
Strike off his head.

Suf. Thou dar'st not for thy own.
Cap. Yes, Poole.

Suf. Poole?

Cap. Poole? Sir Poole? lord?

Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.
Suf. Gelidus timor occupat artus:-'tis thee I fear.
Whit. Thou shalt have cause to fear, before I leave
thee.

What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop?
1 Gent. My gracious lord, entreat him,speak him fair!
Suff. 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 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.
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 Caesar; savage islanders,
Pompey the Great: and Suffolk dies by pirates.

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,

[Exit Suf. with Whit. and Others. Cap. And as for these whose ransom we have set, It is our pleasure, oue of them depart:Therefore come you with us, and let him go.

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 ally 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!

[Exit

[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. 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.

Small things make base men proud: this villain here,
Being captain of a pinnace, threaten more
Than Bargulus, the strong Illyrian pirate.

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.

John. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, I 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 magistra tes be labouring men; and therefore should we be magistrates.

Geo. Thou hast hit it; for there's no better sign of a brave mind ti.an 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,

Cade. Nay, answer, if you can. The Frenchmen are K. Hen. How now, madam? Still
our enemies go to then, I ask but this: Can he, that Lamenting, and mourning for Suffolk's death?
speaks with the tongue of an enemy, be a good coun-I fear, my love, if that I had been dead,
sellor, or no?

All. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head.
W. Staf. Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail,
Assail them with an 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.

Thou wouldest not have mourn'd so much for me.

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.

Q. Mar. No, my love, I should not mourn, but die
for thee.
Enter a Messenger.

lord!

K. Hen. How now! what news? why com'st thou
in such haste?
Mess. The rebels are in Southwark! Fly, my
Jack Cade proclaims himself lord Mortimer,
Descended from the duke of Clarence' house;
And call your grace usurper, openly,
And vows to crown himself in Westminster.
His army is a ragged multitude

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, break open the gaols, and let out the prisoners.

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

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

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-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?
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 should cut them short,
Will parley with Jack Cade, their general.-
But stay, I'll read it over once again.

Q. Mar. 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?

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 suo

K. Hen. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have
thy head.

Say. Ay, but I hope, your highness shall have his.

[Exeuns.

SCENE V. The same. The Tower. Enter Lord SCALES, and Others, on the walls. Then enter certain Citizens, below. Scales. How now! is Jack Cade slain? 1 Cit. 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 hor 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 assay'd 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 And so farewell, for I must hence again. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI. The same. Cannon Street.

lives:

Enter JACK CADE, and his followers. He strikes his
staff on London-stone.
Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here
sitting upon London-stone, I charge and com
mand, 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 trea
son for any that calls me other than -lord Mortimer.