&mast;Q. Mar.
&mast;Oft have I heard—that grief softens the mind,
&mast;And makes it fearful and degenerate;
&mast;Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep.
&mast;But who can cease to weep, and look on this?
&mast;Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast:

&mast;But where's the body that I should embrace?

&mlquo;Buck.

&mlquo;What answer makes your grace to the rebels' supplication^{3 note}?&mrquo;

&mast;K. Hen.
&mast;I'll send some holy bishop to entreat^{4 note}:
&mlquo;For God forbid, so many simple souls
&mlquo;Should perish by the sword! And I myself,
&mlquo;Rather than bloody war shall cut them short,
&mlquo;Will parley with Jack Cade their general,—
&mlquo;But stay, I'll read it over once again.

&mast;Q. Mar.
&mast;Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely face
&mast;Rul'd, like a wandering planet^{5 note}

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

&mlquo;Say.
&mlquo;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^{6 note}, 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. Enter a Messenger.

&mast;K. Hen.
&mast;How now! what news? why com'st thou in such haste?

&mlquo;Mess.
&mlquo;The rebels are in Southwark; Fly, my lord!
&mlquo;Jack Cade proclaims himself lord Mortimer,
&mlquo;Descended from the duke of Clarence' house;
&mlquo;And calls your grace usurper, openly,
&mlquo;And vows to crown himself in Westminster.
&mlquo;His army is a ragged multitude
&mlquo;Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless:
&mlquo;Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death
&mlquo;Hath given them heart and courage to proceed:
&mlquo;All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen,
&mlquo;They call—false caterpillars, and intend their death.

&mast;K. Hen.
&mast;O graceless men! they know not what they do^{7 note}

.

Mlquo;Buck.
My gracious lord, retire to Kenelworth^{8 note}

&mlquo;Until a power be rais'd to put them down.

&mast;Q. Mar.
&mast;Ah! were the duke of Suffolk now alive,
&mast;These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd.

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

&mlquo;Say.
&mlquo;So might your grace's person be in danger;
&mlquo;The sight of me is odious in their eyes:
&mlquo;And therefore in this city will I stay,
&mlquo;And live alone as secret as I may. Enter another Messenger.

&mast;2 Mess.
&mast;Jack Cade hath gotten London-bridge; the citizens
&mast;Fly and forsake their houses:
&mast;The rascal people, thirsting after prey,
&mast;Join with the traitor; and they jointly swear,
&mast;To spoil the city, and your royal court.

&mast;Buck.
&mast;Then linger not, my lord; away, take horse.

&mast;K. Hen.
&mast;Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will succour us.

&mast;Q. Mar.
&mast;My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceas'd.

&mast;K. Hen.
&mast;Farewell, my lord; [To Lord Say.] trust not the Kentish rebels.

&mast;Buck.
&mast;Trust no body, for fear you be betray'd^{9 note}.

&mlquo;Say.
&mlquo;The trust I have is in mine innocence,
&mlquo;And therefore am I bold and resolute. [Exeunt.

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