The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 206

CADE. What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye so brave?

And you, base peasants, do ye believe him? Will you needs be hang'd with your about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southwark? I thought ye would never have given out these arms till you had recovered your ancient freedom. But you are all recreants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the n.o.bility. Let them break your backs with burdens, take your houses over your heads, ravish your wives and daughters before your faces. For me, I will make s.h.i.+ft for one; and so G.o.d's curse light upon you all!

ALL. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade!

CLIFFORD. Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth, That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him?

Will he conduct you through the heart of France, And make the meanest of you earls and dukes?

Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to; Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil, Unless by robbing of your friends and us.

Were't not a shame that whilst you live at jar The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you?

Methinks already in this civil broil I see them lording it in London streets, Crying 'Villiago!' unto all they meet.

Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy.

To France, to France, and get what you have lost; Spare England, for it is your native coast.

Henry hath money; you are strong and manly.

G.o.d on our side, doubt not of victory.

ALL. A Clifford! a Clifford! We'll follow the King and Clifford.

CADE. Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this mult.i.tude? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to an hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. I see them lay their heads together to surprise me. My sword make way for me for here is no staying. In despite of the devils and h.e.l.l, have through the very middest of you! and heavens and honour be witness that no want of resolution in me, but only my followers' base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake me to my heels.

Exit BUCKINGHAM. What, is he fled? Go 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.

Killing, worth Castle

Sound trumpets. Enter KING, QUEEN, and SOMERSET, on the terrace

KING HENRY. 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 HENRY. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surpris'd?

Or is he but retir'd to make him strong?

Enter, below, mult.i.tudes, 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 HENRY. 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, a.s.sure yourselves, will never be unkind.

And so, with thanks and pardon to you all, I do dismiss you to your several countries.

ALL. G.o.d save the King! G.o.d 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 gallowgla.s.ses 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 a traitor.

KING HENRY. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and York distress'd; Like to a s.h.i.+p that, having scap'd a tempest, Is straightway calm'd, and boarded with a pirate; But now is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd, 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 will 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 HENRY. 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 HENRY. 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 ambitions! Fie on myself, that have a sword and yet am ready to famis.h.!.+ 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 climb'd into this garden, to see if I can eat gra.s.s 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-pain had been cleft with a brown bill; and many a time, when I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath serv'd 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 by 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 broach'd, 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 G.o.d I may never eat gra.s.s 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 bon'd clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech G.o.d on my knees thou mayst be turn'd to hobnails. [Here they fight; CADE falls] O, I am slain! famine and no other hath slain me. Let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all. Wither, garden, and be henceforth a burying place to all that do dwell in this house, because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled.

IDEN. Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor?

Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead.

Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point, But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat To emblaze the honour that thy master got.

CADE. Iden, farewell; and be proud of thy victory. Tell Kent from me she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards; for I, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour. [Dies]

IDEN. How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge.

Die, d.a.m.ned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee!

And as I thrust thy body in with my sword, So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to h.e.l.l.

Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, And there cut off thy most ungracious head, Which I will bear in triumph to the King, Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. Exit

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ACT V. SCENE I.

Fields between Dartford and Blackheath