Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have been up

these two days.

They have the more need to sleep now, then.

I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth,

and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.

So he had need, for ’tis threadbare. Well, I say it was never merry

world in England since gentlemen came up.

O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen.

The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.

Nay, more, the King’s Council are no good workmen.

True; and yet it is said, “Labour in thy vocation,” which is as much to

say as, “Let the magistrates be labouring men;” and therefore should we

be magistrates.

Thou hast hit it; for there’s no better sign of a brave mind than a

hard hand.

I see them! I see them! There’s Best’s son, the tanner of Wingham.

He shall have the skin of our enemies, to make dog’s leather of.

And Dick the butcher.

Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity’s throat cut like a

calf.

And Smith the weaver.

Argo, their thread of life is spun.

Come, come, let’s fall in with them.

Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the Butcher, Smith the Weaver and a Sawyer with

infinite numbers carrying long staves.

We, John Cade, so termed of our supposed father—

[_Aside_.] Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings.

For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of

putting down kings and princes. Command silence.

Silence!

My father was a Mortimer—

[_Aside_.] He was an honest man and a good bricklayer.

My mother a Plantagenet—

[_Aside_.] I knew her well; she was a midwife.

My wife descended of the Lacies—

[_Aside_.] She was indeed a pedler’s daughter, and sold many laces.

[_Aside_.] But now of late, not able to travel with her furred pack,

she washes bucks here at home.

Therefore am I of an honourable house.

[_Aside_.] Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable; and there was he

born, under a hedge, for his father had never a house but the cage.

Valiant I am.

[_Aside_.] He must needs; for beggary is valiant.

I am able to endure much.

[_Aside_.] No question of that; for I have seen him whipped three

market-days together.

I fear neither sword nor fire.

[_Aside_.] He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof.

[_Aside_.] But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i’

th’ hand for stealing of sheep.

Be brave, then, for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There

shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny; the

three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops, and I will make it felony to

drink small beer. All the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside

shall my palfrey go to grass. And when I am king, as king I will be—

God save your majesty!

I thank you, good people.—There shall be no money; all shall eat and

drink on my score, and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they

may agree like brothers and worship me their lord.

The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.

Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the

skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment; that parchment,

being scribbled o’er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings, but I

say ’tis the bee’s wax; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was

never mine own man since. How now? Who’s there?

The clerk of Chartham. He can write and read and cast account.

O, monstrous!

We took him setting of boys’ copies.

Here’s a villain!

H’as a book in his pocket with red letters in ’t.

Nay, then, he is a conjurer.

Nay, he can make obligations and write court-hand.

I am sorry for ’t. The man is a proper man, of mine honour; unless I

find him guilty, he shall not die.—Come hither, sirrah, I must examine

thee. What is thy name?

Emmanuel.

They use to write it on the top of letters. ’Twill go hard with you.

Let me alone. Dost thou use to write thy name? Or hast thou a mark to

thyself, like a honest, plain-dealing man?

Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up that I can write my

name.

He hath confessed. Away with him! He’s a villain and a traitor.

Away with him, I say! Hang him with his pen and inkhorn about his neck.

Where’s our general?

Here I am, thou particular fellow.

Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with

the King’s forces.

Stand, villain, stand, or I’ll fell thee down. He shall be encountered

with a man as good as himself. He is but a knight, is he?

No.

To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently.

[_Kneels_.] Rise up Sir John Mortimer.

[_Rises_.] Now have at him!

Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent,

Marked for the gallows, lay your weapons down;

Home to your cottages, forsake this groom.

The King is merciful, if you revolt.

But angry, wrathful, and inclined to blood,

If you go forward. Therefore yield, or die.

As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not.

It is to you, good people, that I speak,

Over whom, in time to come, I hope to reign,

For I am rightful heir unto the crown.

Villain, thy father was a plasterer,

And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not?

And Adam was a gardener.

And what of that?

Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March,

Married the Duke of Clarence’ daughter, did he not?

Ay, sir.

By her he had two children at one birth.

That’s false.

Ay, there’s the question; but I say ’tis true.

The elder of them, being put to nurse,

Was by a beggar-woman stolen away,

And, ignorant of his birth and parentage,

Became a bricklayer when he came to age.

His son am I; deny it if you can.

Nay, ’tis too true; therefore he shall be King.

Sir, he made a chimney in my father’s house, and the bricks are alive

at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not.

And will you credit this base drudge’s words,

That speaks he knows not what?

Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone.

Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this.

[_Aside_.] He lies, for I invented it myself.—Go to, sirrah, tell the

King from me that, for his father’s sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose

time boys went to span-counter for French crowns, I am content he shall

reign, but I’ll be Protector over him.

And furthermore, we’ll have the Lord Saye’s head for selling the

dukedom of Maine.

And good reason, for thereby is England mained and fain to go with a

staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell you that

that Lord Saye hath gelded the commonwealth and made it an eunuch; and

more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a traitor.

O gross and miserable ignorance!

Nay, answer if you can. The Frenchmen are our enemies; go to, then, I

ask but this: can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good

counsellor, or no?

No, no, and therefore we’ll have his head.

Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail,

Assail them with the army of the King.

Herald, away, and throughout every town

Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade;

That those which fly before the battle ends

May, even in their wives’ and children’s sight,

Be hanged up for example at their doors.

And you that be the King’s friends, follow me.

And you that love the commons follow me.

Now show yourselves men; ’tis for liberty.

We will not leave one lord, one gentleman;

Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon,

For they are thrifty honest men and such

As would, but that they dare not, take our parts.

They are all in order and march toward us.

But then are we in order when we are most out of order. Come, march

forward.