Here shall they make their ranfom on the fand;sur l
Or with their blood ftain this difcolour'd shore,
Mafter, this prifoner freely give I thee geen set son i
And thou, that art his mate, make boot of this
The other, Walter Whitmore is thy share..

I do I 1 Gent. What is my ransom, mafter, let me know. ( Maft. A thousand crowns, or elfe lay down your head. Mate. And fo much shall you give, or off goes yours. Whit.What, thinkyoumuch to pay twothoufand crowns, And bear the name and port of gentlemen?

Cut both the villains throats, for die you fhall: 12
Nor can thofe lives, which we have loft in fight,
Be counter-pois'd with fuch a petty fum.

1 Gent. I'll give it, Sir, and therefore fpare my life. 4 2 Gent. And fo will I, and write home for it ftraight. Whit. I loft mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore, to revenge it, fhalt thou die; [To Suffolk. And fo fhould thefe, if I might have my will.

Cap. Be not fo rafh, take ransome, let him live.
Suf. Look on my George, I am a gentleman
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou fhalt be paid.
Whit. And fo am I; my name is Walter Whitmore.
How now? why ftart'ft thou? what, doth death affright?
Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whofe found is death.
A cunning man did calculate my birth,

And told me, that by water I should die :
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded,
Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly founded.
Whit. Gualtier or Walter, which it is, I care not;
Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name,
But with our fword we wip'd away the blot.
Therefore, when merchant-like I fell revenge,
Broke be my fword, my arms torn and defac'd,
And I proclaim'd a coward through the world!
Suf. Stay, Whitmore; for thy prifoner is a Prince
The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

Whit. The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags ?
Suf. Ay, but thefe rags are no part of the Duke.
Jove fometimes went difguis'd, and why not I?
Cap. But Jove was never flain, as thou shalt be.

Suf

Suf. Obfcure and lowly fwain, King Henry's blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster,

Muft not be shed by fuch a jaded groom:

Haft thou not kifs'd thy hand, and held my flirrop?
Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule,

And thought thee happy when I fhook my head?
How often haft thou waited at my cup,

Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board,
When I have feafted with Queen Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee creft-fal'n ?
Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride.
How in our voiding lobby haft thou flood,
And duly waited for my coming forth?
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,
And therefore thall it charm thy riotous tongue.
Whit. Speak, Captain, fhall I ftab the forlorn fwain ?
Cap. First let my words ftab him, as he hath me.
Suf. Bafe flave, thy words are blunt; and fo art thou.
Cap. Convey him hence, and, on our long-boat's fide,

Strike off his head.

Suf. Thou dar'ft not for thy own.
Cap. Poole, Sir Pool? Lord?

Ay, kennel-puddle-fink,

whofe filth and dirt Troubles the filver fpring where England drinks: Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth, For fwallowing up the treasure of the realm.. Thy lips, that kifs'd the Queen, fhall fweep the ground; And thou, that fmil'dft at good Duke Humphry's death, Against the fenfelefs winds fhalt grin in vain, Who in contempt fhall hifs at thee again. And wedded be thou to the hags of hell, For daring to affie a mighty Lord Unto the daughter of a worthless King, Having nor fubject, wealth, nor diadem! By devilish policy art thou grown great, And, like ambitious Sylla, over-gorg'd With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart. By thee Anjou and Maine were fold to France; The falfe revolting Normans, thorough thee, Difdain to call us Lord; and Picardy

Hath

Hath flain their Governors, fupriz'd our forts,
And fent the ragged foldiers wounded home.
The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,
(Whofe dreadful fwords were never drawn in vain) ·
As hating thee, are rifing up in arms.

And now the house of York (thruft from the crown)
By fhameful murder of a guiltless King,
And lofty proud incroaching tyranny,

Burns with revenging fire; whofe hopeful colours
Advance a half-fac'd fun ftriving to fhine;
Under the which is writ, Invitis nubibus.
The commons here in Kent are up in arms:
And to conclude, reproach, and beggary
Is crept into the palace of our King,

And all by thee. Away! convey him hence.-
Suf. O, that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder
Upon these paultry, fervile, abject drudges!
Small things make bafe men proud. This villain here,
Being Captain of a pinnace, threatens more
Than Bargulus the ftrong Illyrian pirate. (14)
Drones fuck not eagles blood, but rob bee-hives.
It is impoffible that I should die

By fuch a lowly vaffal as thyfelf.

Thy words move rage, and not remorfe, in me: go of meffage from the Queen to France;

I

I charge thee waft me fafely crofs the channel.
Cap. Walter

Whit. Come, Suffolk, I muft waft thee to thy death. Suf. Pana gelidustimer occupat artus: it's thee I fear. (15) Whit. Thou fhalt have caufe to fear, before I leave thee. What, are ye daunted now? now will ye ftoop?

1 Gent. My gracious Lord, intreat him; speak him fair.

(14) Than Bargulus the ftrong Illyrian pirate.]

The old 4to reads, than mighty Abradas the great Macedonian pirate. Neither of these wights have I been able to trace, or discover from what legend our author deriv'd his acquaintance with them.

(15) Pine gelidus timor occupat artus.] Thus the 1ft folia impreffion. Whence the poet glean'd this Hemiftich, I do not know. 'Tis certain, the first word is corrupted. I believe, I have reftor'd it, as it ought to be. Suffolk would fay, the fear of that punishment, that revenge, they were about to take upon him, put his limbs into a cold trembling.

Suf

Suf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is ftern and rough, Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour. Far be it, we should honour fuch as these

With humble fuit; no; rather let my head
Stoop to the block, than thefe knees bow to any.
Save to the God of heav'n, and to my King;
And fooner dance upon a bloody pole,
Than ftand uncover'd to the vulgar groom.
True Nobility is exempt from fear:
More can I bear, than you dare execute.

Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more'; Come, foldiers, fhew what cruelty ye can.

Suf. That this my death may never be forgot, Great men oft die by vile Bezonians.

A Roman fworder and Bandetto flave

Murder'd fweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand
Stabb'd Julius Cajar; favage islanders

Pompey the Great; And Suffolk dies by pirates.

[Exit Walter Whitmore with Suffolk. Cap. And as for thefe, whose ransom we have fet, It is our pleasure one of them depart;

Therefore come you with us, and let him go.

[Exe. Captain and the reft.

Manet the firft Gent. Enter Whitmore, with the body. Whit. There let his head and liveless body lye,

Until the Queen his mistress bury it.

[Exit Whit.

1 Gent. O barbarous and bloody fpectacle !

His body will I bear unto the King:

If he revenge it not, yet will his friends;

So will the Queen, that living held him dear. [Exit.

SCENE changes to Southwartk.

Enter Bevis and John Holland.

Bevis. Calath; they have been up thefe two days. Ome, and get thee a fword though made of

Hol. They have the more need to fleep now then. Bevis I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and feta new nap upon it.

Hol

Hol. So he had need, for 'tis thread-bare. Well, I fay, it was never merry world in England fince Gentlemen

came up.

Bevis. O miferable age! virtue is not regarded in handy-crafts men.

Hol. The nobility think fcorn to go in leather aprons. Bevis. Nay more, the King's council are no good workmen.

Hol. True, and yet it is faid, Labour in thy vocation; which is as much as to fay, let the magiftrates be labouring men; and therefore fhould we be magiftrates.

Bevis. Thou haft hit it; for there's no better fign of a brave mind than a hard hand.

Hol. I fee them, I fee them; there's Best's fon, the tann:r of Wingham.

Bevis. He fhall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's leather of.

Hol. And Dick the butcher :

Bevis. Then is fin ftruck down like an ox, and iniquity's throat cut like a calf.

Hol. And Smith the weaver :---

Bevis. Argo, their thread of life is fpun.
Hol. Come, come, let's fall in with them.
Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the Butcher, Smith the
Weaver, and a Sawyer, with infinite numbers.

Cade. We John Cade, fo term'd of our fuppofed father

Dick. Or rather of ftealing a cade of herrings.

Cade. For our enemies fhall fall before us, infpired with the fpirit of putting down Kings and Princes; command filence.

Dick. Silence.

Cade. My father was a Mortimer

Dick. He was an honeft man and a good bricklayer.

Cade. My mother a Plantagenet

Dick. I knew her well, fhe was a midwife.

Cade. My wife defcended of the Lacies

Dick. She was indeed a pedlar's daughter, and fold many laces.

Wear.