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. Henry.
I'll send some holy bishop to entreat:
For God forbid, so many simple souls
Should perish by the sword! And I myself,
Rather than bloody war should cut them short,
Will parly with Jack Cade their general.—
But stay, I'll read it over once again.

Q. Mar.
Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely face
^{7 note}Rul'd, like a wandering planet, over me;
And could it not enforce them to relent,

That were unworthy to behold the same?

K. Henry.
Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.

Say.
Ay, but I hope, your highness shall have his.

K. Henry.
How now, madam?
Lamenting still, and mourning 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. Enter a Messenger.

K. Henry.
How now! what news? why com'st thou in such haste?

Mes.
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. Henry.
O graceless men! they know not what they do.

Buck.
My gracious lord, ^{8 note}

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

K. Henry.
Lord Say, the traitor hateth thee,
Therefore away with us to Kenelworth.

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 Mes.
Jack Cade hath gotten London-bridge;
The citizens fly him, 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. Henry.
Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will succour us.

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

K. Henry.
Farewel, my lord; trust not to 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.

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