SCENE X.
A garden in Kent1 note
.
Enter Jack Cade.
Cade.
Fie on ambition! fie on myself; that have a
sword, and yet am ready to famish! These five days
have I hid me in these woods; and durst not peep out,
for all the country is lay'd 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 grass, 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, 2 note
but for a sallet, my
brain-pan 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.
-- 410 --
Enter Iden, with Servants.
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's worth a monarchy.
I seek not to wax great by others' waining;
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 for carrying my head to him; but
I'll make thee eat iron like an ostridge, 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 spight 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 God, I may never eat grass 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 stedfast-gazing eyes to mine,
See if thou canst out-face 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;
-- 411 --
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.
3 note
As for more words 9Q0831, 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 Jove on my
knees, thou may'st be turn'd to hobnails.
[Here they fight.
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 unconquer'd
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 dead4 note
: 9Q0832
Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point;
But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat,
-- 412 --
To emblaze the honour that thy master got.
Cade.
Iden, farewel; 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
fear'd any, am vanquish'd by famine, not by valour.
[Dies.
Iden.
5 noteHow much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge.
Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee!
And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,
6 note
So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell.
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.
-- 413 --
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
