Buck.
Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee.
Know, Cade, we come Ambassadors from the King
Unto the Commons, whom thou hast mis-led;
And here pronounce free pardon to them all,
That will forsake thee, and go home in peace.

Clif.
What say ye, Country-men, will ye relent,
And yield to mercy, whilst 'tis offer'd you,
Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths?
Who loves the King, and will embrace his Pardon,
Fling up his cap, and say, God save his Majesty!
Who hateth him, and honours not his father,
Henry the fifth, that made all France to quake,
Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by.

All.
God save the King! God save the King!

Cade.

What Buckingham and Clifford, are ye so brave? and you, base peasants, do ye believe 'em? will you

needs be hang'd with your pardons about your necks? hath my sword therefore broke through London' gates, that you should leave me at the White-hart in Southwark? I thought, you would never have given out these arms, till you had recover'd your ancient Freedom, but you are all recreants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the Nobility. 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 shift for one, and so God's curse 'light upon you all!

All.
We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade.

Clif.
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 Villageois! 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.
^{1 note}Henry hath money, you are strong and manly;
God 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 multitude? 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 surprize me. My sword make way for me, for here is no staying; in despight of the devils and hell, have through the very midst of you; and heavens and honour be witness, that no want of resolution in me, but only my followers base and ignominious treasons, make me betake me to my heels.

Buck.
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.

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