SCENE III. Another Part of Blackheath.

Alarums. 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, a week1.

'Dick. I desire no more.

*Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deservest no * less. This monument of the victory will I bear2; * and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse's * heels, till I do come to London, where we will * have the mayor's sword borne before us.

1 The last two words, a week, were added by Malone from the old play. It is necessary to render the passage intelligible. In the reign of Elizabeth butchers were strictly enjoined not to sell flesh meat in Lent, not with a religious view, but for the double purpose of diminishing the consumption of flesh meat during that period, and so making it more plentiful during the rest of the year, and of encouraging the fisheries and augmenting the number of seamen. Butchers, who had interest at court, frequently obtained a dispensation to kill a certain number of beasts a week during Lent; of which indulgence the wants of invalids who could not subsist without animal food was made the pretence. There are several proclamations on the subject in the library of the Society of Antiquaries.

2 Here Cade must be supposed to take off Stafford's armour. So Holinshed:-' Jack Cade, upon his victory against the Staffords, apparelled himself in Sir Humphrey's brigandine, set full of gilt nails, and so in glory returned again toward London.' Sir Humphrey Stafford was in fact killed at Sevenoaks, and is buried at Bromsgrove, in Staffordshire.

* 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. 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 bishop1 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.

* Q. Mar. Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely face

* Rul'd, like a wandering planet, over me;

1 Shakspeare has here fallen into another inconsistency, by sometimes following Holinshed instead of the old play. He afterwards forgets this holy bishop: and in Scene the eighth we find only Buckingham and Clifford were sent, conformably to the old play. Holinshed mentions that the archbishop of Canterbary and the duke of Buckingham were sent.

2 Predominated irresistibly over my passions, as the planets over those born under their influence. The old play led Shakspeare into this strange exhibition; a queen with the head of her murdered paramour on her bosom, in presence of her husband!

* And could it not enforce them to relent,

* That were unworthy to behold the same?

6

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.

6

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 do3.

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

24/ Q. Mar. Ah! were the duke of Suffolk now alive, * These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd.

3 Instead of this line the old copy has :

'Go bid Buckingham and Clifford gather
An army up, and meet with the rebels.'

*

K. Hen. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee, Therefore away with us to Kenelworth.

6

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.

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 honour from the Tower, to defend the city from the rebels.

Scales. Such aid as I can spare, you shall com

mand;

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 will I send you Matthew Gough:
Fight for your king, your country, and your lives;
And so farewell, for I must hence again. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI. The same. Cannon Street.

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 command, that, of the city's cost, the pissing-conduit1 run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign. And now, henceforward, it shall be treason for any that calls me other than-Lord Mortimer.

Enter a Soldier, running.

Sold. Jack Cade! Jack Cade!

Cade. Knock him down there. [They kill him2.

1 Whatever offence to modern delicacy may be given by this imagery, such ornaments to fountains appear to have been no uncommon device in ancient times. The curious reader may see a design, probably from the pencil of Benedetto di Montagna, for a very singular fountain of this kind in that elegant book the Hypnerotomachia, printed by Aldus in 1499. Le Grand, in his Vie Privée des François, mentions that at a feast made by Phillippe-le-Bon there was une statue d'enfant nu, posé sur une roche, et qui de sa broquette pissait eau de rose.' This conduit may, however, have been one set up at the standarde in Cheape, according to Stowe, by John Wels, grocer, mayor, in 1430, with a small cisterne for fresh water, having one cock continually running. See a note on As You Like It, Act iv. Sc. 1, p. 187.

2. He also put to execution in Southwarke diverse persons, some for breaking this ordinance, and other being his old acquaintance lest they should bewray his base lineage, disparaging him for his usurped name of Mortimer.'-Holinshed, p. 634.