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twg_000000019100 | With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain Upon his face an ocean of salt tears, To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk, And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling; But all in vain are these mean obsequies. And to survey his dead and earthy image, What were it but to make my sorrow greater? Enter Warwick and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019101 | others, bearing Gloucesters body on a bed. WARWICK. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body. KING HENRY. That is to see how deep my grave is made, For with his soul fled all my worldly solace; For seeing him, I see my life in death. WARWICK. As surely as my soul intends to live With that dread King that took | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019102 | our state upon Him To free us from His Fathers wrathful curse, I do believe that violent hands were laid Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke. SUFFOLK. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue! What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow? WARWICK. See how the blood is settled in his face. Oft have I seen a timely-parted | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019103 | ghost, Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart, Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance gainst the enemy, Which with the heart there cools and neer returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. But see, his face is black and full of blood, His eyeballs | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019104 | further out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; His hair upreared, his nostrils stretched with struggling, His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasped And tugged for life and was by strength subdued. Look, on the sheets his hair, you see, is sticking; His well-proportioned beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summers corn | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019105 | by tempest lodged. It cannot be but he was murdered here; The least of all these signs were probable. SUFFOLK. Why, Warwick, who should do the Duke to death? Myself and Beaufort had him in protection, And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers. WARWICK. But both of you were vowed Duke Humphreys foes, And you, forsooth, had the good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019106 | Duke to keep. Tis like you would not feast him like a friend, And tis well seen he found an enemy. QUEEN MARGARET. Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen As guilty of Duke Humphreys timeless death. WARWICK. Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect twas he that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019107 | made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttocks nest But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? Even so suspicious is this tragedy. QUEEN MARGARET. Are you the butcher, Suffolk? Wheres your knife? Is Beaufort termed a kite? Where are his talons? SUFFOLK. I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019108 | But heres a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart That slanders me with murders crimson badge. Say, if thou darst, proud Lord of Warwickshire, That I am faulty in Duke Humphreys death. [_Exeunt Cardinal, Somerset and others._] WARWICK. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him? QUEEN MARGARET. He dares not calm | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019109 | his contumelious spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times. WARWICK. Madam, be still, with reverence may I say; For every word you speak in his behalf Is slander to your royal dignity. SUFFOLK. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour! If ever lady wronged her lord so much, Thy mother took into her blameful | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019110 | bed Some stern untutored churl, and noble stock Was graft with crab-tree slip, whose fruit thou art, And never of the Nevilles noble race. WARWICK. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereigns presence makes me mild, I would, false | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019111 | murderous coward, on thy knee Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech And say it was thy mother that thou meantst, That thou thyself wast born in bastardy; And after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men! SUFFOLK. Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019112 | blood, If from this presence thou darst go with me. WARWICK. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence. Unworthy though thou art, Ill cope with thee And do some service to Duke Humphreys ghost. [_Exeunt Suffolk and Warwick._] KING HENRY. What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted? Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, And he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019113 | but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. [_A noise within._] QUEEN MARGARET. What noise is this? Enter Suffolk and Warwick with their weapons drawn. KING HENRY. Why, how now, lords? Your wrathful weapons drawn Here in our presence? Dare you be so bold? Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here? SUFFOLK. The traitorous Warwick | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019114 | with the men of Bury Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. Enter Salisbury. SALISBURY. [_To the Commons, entering_.] Sirs, stand apart; the King shall know your mind. Dread lord, the commons send you word by me, Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death, Or banished fair Englands territories, They will by violence tear him from your palace And torture | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019115 | him with grievous lingering 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019116 | 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 slyly glided towards your majesty, It were but necessary you were waked, Lest, being suffered in that harmful slumber, The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019117 | mortal worm might make the sleep eternal. And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, That they will guard you, wheer 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019118 | my Lord of Salisbury! SUFFOLK. Tis like the commons, rude unpolished hinds, Could send such message to their sovereign. But you, my lord, were glad to be employed, 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019119 | [_Within_.] An answer from the King, or we will all break in! KING HENRY. 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 Suffolks | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019120 | 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._] QUEEN MARGARET. O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk! KING HENRY. Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle Suffolk! No more, I say; if thou dost plead | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019121 | 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 best found On any ground that I am ruler of, The world shall not be ransom for thy life. Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019122 | me; I have great matters to impart to thee. [_Exeunt all but Queen and Suffolk._] QUEEN MARGARET. Mischance and sorrow go along with you! Hearts discontent and sour affliction Be playfellows to keep you company! Theres two of you; the devil make a third! And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps! SUFFOLK. Cease, gentle Queen, these execrations, And let thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019123 | Suffolk take his heavy leave. QUEEN MARGARET. Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch! Has thou not spirit to curse thine enemies? SUFFOLK. A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them? Could curses kill, as doth the mandrakes groan, I would invent as bitter searching terms, As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear, Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019124 | With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave. My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; Mine hair be fixed on end, as one distract; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban; And even now my burdened heart would break Should I not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019125 | 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 music frightful as the serpents hiss, And boding screech-owls make the consort full! All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell QUEEN MARGARET. Enough, sweet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019126 | Suffolk; thou tormentst thyself, And these dread curses, like the sun gainst glass, Or like an overcharged gun, recoil And turns the force of them upon thyself. SUFFOLK. You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave? Now, by the ground that I am banished from, Well could I curse away a winters night, Though standing naked on a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019127 | mountain top Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport. QUEEN MARGARET. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019128 | printed in thy hand, That thou mightst think upon these by the seal, Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee! So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief; Tis but surmised whiles thou art standing by, As one that surfeits thinking on a want. I will repeal thee, or, be well assured, Adventure to be banished | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019129 | 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 condemned Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves, Loather a hundred times to part than die. Yet now farewell, and farewell life with thee. SUFFOLK. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, Once | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019130 | by the King, and three times thrice by thee. Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019131 | thy life, Myself no joy in nought but that thou livst. Enter Vaux. QUEEN MARGARET. Whither goes Vaux so fast? What news, I prithee? 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019132 | on earth. Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphreys 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. QUEEN MARGARET. Go tell this heavy message to the King. [_Exit | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019133 | Vaux._] Ay me! What is this world? What news are these! But wherefore grieve I at an hours poor loss, Omitting Suffolks exile, my souls treasure? Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, And with the southern clouds contend in tears, Theirs for the earths increase, mine for my sorrows? Now get thee hence. The King, thou knowst, is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019134 | coming; If thou be found by me thou art but dead. SUFFOLK. 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 mothers dug between its | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019135 | 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 shouldst thou either turn my flying soul, Or I should breathe it so into thy body, And then it lived in sweet Elysium. To die by thee were but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019136 | to die in jest; From thee to die were torture more than death. O, let me stay, befall what may befall! QUEEN MARGARET. Away! Though parting be a fretful corrosive, It is applied to a deathful wound. To France, sweet Suffolk! Let me hear from thee, For wheresoer thou art in this worlds globe Ill have an Iris that shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019137 | find thee out. SUFFOLK. I go. QUEEN MARGARET. And take my heart with thee. SUFFOLK. A jewel, locked into the woefullst cask That ever did contain a thing of worth. Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we. This way fall I to death. QUEEN MARGARET. This way for me. [_Exeunt severally._] SCENE III. A Bedchamber Enter the King, Salisbury | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019138 | and Warwick, to the Cardinal in bed. KING HENRY. How fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign. CARDINAL. If thou best Death, Ill give thee Englands treasure, Enough to purchase such another island, So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain. KING HENRY. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life Where deaths approach is seen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019139 | so terrible! WARWICK. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee. CARDINAL. Bring me unto my trial when you will. Died he not in his bed? Where should he die? Can I make men live, wheer they will or no? O, torture me no more! I will confess. Alive again? Then show me where he is. Ill give a thousand | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019140 | 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. KING HENRY. O Thou eternal mover of the heavens, Look with a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019141 | gentle eye upon this wretch! O, beat away the busy meddling fiend That lays strong siege unto this wretchs soul, And from his bosom purge this black despair! WARWICK. See how the pangs of death do make him grin! SALISBURY. Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably. KING HENRY. Peace to his soul, if Gods good pleasure be! Lord Cardinal, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019142 | if thou thinkst on heavens bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. He dies and makes no sign. O God, forgive him! WARWICK. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. KING HENRY. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation. [_Exeunt._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019143 | ACT IV SCENE I. The Coast of Kent Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a Lieutenant, Suffolk, disguised, a prisoner. The Master, a Masters Mate, Walter Whitmore, and prisoners. LIEUTENANT. 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019144 | with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Clip dead mens 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 ransom on the sand, Or with their blood stain this discoloured shore. Master, this prisoner freely | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019145 | give I thee, And thou that art his mate, make boot of this; The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share. GENTLEMAN. What is my ransom, master? Let me know. MASTER. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. MATE. And so much shall you give, or off goes yours. LIEUTENANT. What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019146 | And bear the name and port of gentlemen? Cut both the villains throatsfor die you shall. The lives of those which we have lost in fight Be counterpoised with such a petty sum! GENTLEMAN. Ill give it, sir, and therefore spare my life. GENTLEMAN. And so will I, and write home for it straight. WHITMORE. [_To Suffolk_.] I lost mine | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019147 | eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore to revenge it shalt thou die; And so should these, if I might have my will. LIEUTENANT. Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live. SUFFOLK. Look on my George; I am a gentleman. Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. WHITMORE. And so am I; my name | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019148 | is Walter Whitmore. How now! Why starts thou? What, doth death affright? SUFFOLK. 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 Gaultier, being rightly sounded. WHITMORE. Gaultier or Walter, which it is, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019149 | I care not. Never yet did base dishonour blur our name But with our sword we wiped away the blot. Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge, Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defaced, And I proclaimed a coward through the world! SUFFOLK. Stay, Whitmore, for thy prisoner is a prince, The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019150 | WHITMORE. The Duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags? SUFFOLK. Ay, but these rags are no part of the Duke. Jove sometime went disguised, and why not I? LIEUTENANT. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. SUFFOLK. Obscure and lowly swain, King Henrys blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster, Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019151 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019152 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019153 | words are blunt, and so art thou. LIEUTENANT. Convey him hence, and on our longboats side Strike off his head. SUFFOLK. Thou darst 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019154 | 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 Humphreys 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019155 | 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 mothers 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019156 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019157 | 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! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019158 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019159 | 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? GENTLEMAN. My gracious lord, entreat him, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019160 | speak him fair. SUFFOLK. Suffolks 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019161 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019162 | 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 Gentleman._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019163 | Enter Whitmore with Suffolks body and head. WHITMORE. There let his head and lifeless body lie, Until the Queen his mistress bury it. [_Exit._] 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._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019164 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019165 | 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 Kings Council are no good workmen. HOLLAND. True; and yet it is said, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019166 | 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 theres no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand. HOLLAND. I see them! I see them! Theres Bests son, the tanner of Wingham. BEVIS. He shall have the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019167 | skin of our enemies, to make dogs leather of. HOLLAND. And Dick the butcher. BEVIS. Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquitys throat cut like a calf. HOLLAND. And Smith the weaver. BEVIS. Argo, their thread of life is spun. HOLLAND. Come, come, lets fall in with them. Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the Butcher, Smith the Weaver | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019168 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019169 | 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 pedlers daughter, and sold many laces. SMITH. [_Aside_.] But now of late, not able to travel with her furred pack, she washes bucks here | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019170 | 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_.] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019171 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019172 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019173 | 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, lets kill all the lawyers. CADE. Nay, that I mean | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019174 | to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment; that parchment, being scribbled oer, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings, but I say tis the bees wax; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. How now? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019175 | Whos 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. Heres a villain! SMITH. Has a n his pocket with red letters in t. CADE. Nay, then, he is a conjurer. DICK. Nay, he can | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019176 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019177 | 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! Hes a villain and a traitor. CADE. Away with him, I say! Hang him with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019178 | his pen and inkhorn about his neck. [_Exit one with the Clerk._] Enter Michael. MICHAEL. Wheres our general? CADE. Here I am, thou particular fellow. MICHAEL. Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with the Kings forces. CADE. Stand, villain, stand, or Ill fell thee down. He shall be encountered with a man as good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019179 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019180 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019181 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019182 | at one birth. BROTHER. Thats false. CADE. Ay, theres 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019183 | he shall be King. SMITH. Sir, he made a chimney in my fathers house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not. STAFFORD. And will you credit this base drudges words, That speaks he knows not what? ALL. Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone. BROTHER. Jack Cade, the Duke of York | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019184 | hath taught you this. CADE. [_Aside_.] He lies, for I invented it myself.Go to, sirrah, tell the King from me that, for his fathers sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns, I am content he shall reign, but Ill be Protector over him. DICK. And furthermore, well have the Lord Sayes head for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019185 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019186 | 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 well have his head. BROTHER. Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail, Assail them with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019187 | 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 childrens sight, Be hanged up for example at their doors. And you that be the Kings friends, follow me. [_Exeunt the two Staffords and soldiers._] CADE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019188 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019189 | 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. Wheres Dick, the butcher of Ashford? DICK. Here, sir. CADE. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019190 | behavedst 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019191 | I bear. [_putting on Sir Humphreys brigandine_] And the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels till I do come to London, where we will have the Mayors 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, lets | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019192 | march towards London. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. London. The Palace Enter the King with a supplication, and the Queen with Suffolks 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019193 | weep and look on this? Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast; But wheres the body that I should embrace? BUCKINGHAM. What answer makes your grace to the rebels supplication? KING HENRY. Ill 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019194 | shall cut them short, Will parley with Jack Cade their general. But stay, Ill 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019195 | have thy head. SAYE. Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his. KING HENRY. How now, madam? Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolks 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019196 | KING HENRY. How now, what news? Why comst 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019197 | Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brothers 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019198 | 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 graces 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019199 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
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