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 conduit do run nothing but claret wine the first year of our reign.

And now from henceforth it shall be treason for any that calls me other than lord Mortimer.

Sold.

Jack Cade! Jack Cade!

Cade.

Knock him down there!

Weaver.

If this fellow be wise, he'll never call thee Jack Cade more. I think he hath a very fair warning.

Cade.

Fling all my dead subjects into the Thames! Some of you, go and set London bridge on fire; and if you can, you may e'en as well burn the tower too. Others, pull down the Savoy. Others, again, to the Inns of Court. Away! burn all the records of the realm. My mouth shall be the parliament of England; and, henceforth, all kings shall be in common.

Dick.

My lord, a prize! a prize! here's the Lord Say, who sold the towns in France,—he that made us pay one and twenty fifteens and one shilling to the pound, the last subsidy.

Cade.

Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times.

Oh! thou buckram lord,—What canst thou answer to my majesty for giving up Normandy to Monsieur Parlez-vous, the Dauphin of France? Moreover, thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm by erecting a grammar school. It will be

proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb, and such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear spoke. Moreover, thou dost ride on a footcloth.

Say.

Suppose I do, what of it?

Cade.

Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a cloak when honester men than thou go in hose and doublets.

Say.

You men of Kent—

Cade.

Away with him, I say!

Say.
Hear me but speak, and bear me where thou wilt.
Kent, in the Commentaries Cæsar writ—

Cade.

Hang Cæsar and his commodities. What have we to do with him? Take him away again, I say. The fellow can quote nothing but latin.

Say.
These cheeks are pale with watching for your good!

Cade.
Give him a box on the ear—'twill make 'em red again.
Go—take him away, I say, and strike off his head.

All.

Huzza! huzza!

Cade.

The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders unless he pay me tribute. I tell thee, Tom, the cobler—here's my shoe. Dost thou believe, if it had any wit in it, 'twould carry me up and down all day in the dirt? Or dost think my breeches would be sat upon, or my doublet cloath my back, and by that means be often cudgell'd, if they had any wit? No; if they had any wit, they would be caps.

Cob.

True—but your worship's cap's cudgell'd

sometimes. I have known your honour wear a broken pate.

Cade.

Aye; but pride feels no hurt. So some great Lords are trodden under foot like dirty shoes: some hang like doublets upon the nation's back, and some like breeches only on the tail. Yet, by their good will, they would all be caps. And so would you, my friends, if you be wise.

Cob.

So we will—we'll all be caps.

All.

Huzza! huzza! We'll all be caps. We'll all be caps.

Cade.

If you'll be caps, hang all lords and gentlemen, and all rich citizens.

Dick.

Why all rich citizens? Prythee, my lord, they're my particular friends and buy more meat than all the lords in England. Besides, they promise they'll redress all our grievances.

Cade.

Butcher, those promises are but a cheat. These men puff thee, just as thou blowest thy veal— only to make ye swell for their own ends.

Dick.

Are they such cheats?

Cade.

Oh most notorious cheats. They leave their shops o'days to meddle with state affairs, and so cheat themselves of the money they might get, and cheat the town of trade it might have, and, last, they mean to cheat us of our necks,—that is, to have us hanged. Now, by my conscience, 'tis a pity we should not be before hand with them. So hang the men, and give the rope its due, and we shall be very honest fellows.

All.

Aye, aye, we shall be very honest fellows.

Cade.

Howsoever, in order to that, we must first hang all the lawyers.

Cob.

Let's hang the doctors and 'potticaries—for

though they contrive to kill pretty fast, we can do it yet quicker.

Cade.

Subjects! I'm for hanging the doctors by all means; but the lawyers first; and why? for fear they should hang you. For when you've had a thousand broken heads, and settled all things as right as you could wish, a roguish lawyer will ruin all again with a mere quirk.

Cob.

A quirk! What's a quirk?

Cade.

A quirk! Why 'tis—a quirk.

Cob.

Well, but what is a quirk?

Dick.

Lord bless your sweet face—what matter is it what is a quirk? I know what my lord means fast enough.

Cob.

Do you so? then you are a scholar; and I hate all scholars. Yet I would fain know what a quirk is, howsoever.

Cade.

Rascal, dost thou know what an awl is?

Cob.

I think I do know that, indeed.

Cade.

Why, then, as thou borest holes in shoes with thine awl, to mend 'em, so the lawyers bore holes in estates with their quirks, to mar them.

Cob.

Oh! Oh! I am satisfied.

Cade.

For this and other reasons, hang the lawyers. They strive to make subjects break the laws, and then contrive that the laws shall break the subjects. Henceforth, my mouth shall be the only law.

Some voices cry,

“A Clifford, a Clifford! Long live King Harry, Down will all clothiers.”

(others again)

“A Mortimer! a Mortimer!’

“Cade.

What means all this hurly burly? Have we but just began our reign over England, and have we rebellion among us already?

“One of the rabble.

Jack Cade! Jack Cade!

“Cade.

Down with the undutiful rascal—what news, Smith the weaver?

“Smith.

Sorrowful news, General—our advanced guard has been met at Snow-hill by some half dozen of the Lord Clifford's serving men in livery jackets, and put to flight, and our right army turned in Smithfield by an attachment of watchmen. The King's free pardon has play'd the devil among your graces followers.

“Voices. without.

“A Clifford! A Clifford!

“Cade.

Nay, then, 'tis time to bestir ourselves.— On, boys, on!

What, are ye shame-faced and afraid to shew yourselves before good company? Then let's secure our retreat over London-bridge before that's cut off too.

Cade.

Over the bridge again! Up Fish-street! down St. Magnus' corner! kill and knock down— throw 'em into the Thames!”

What noise is this I hear? Dare any be so bold as sound a parley when I command them kill?”