London. A Room in the Palace. | |
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Enter KING HENRY, reading a Supplication; the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM and LORD SAY with him: at a distance, QUEEN MARGARET, mourning over SUFFOLK’S head. | |
| Q. Mar. Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, | |
| And makes it fearful and degenerate; | 4 |
| 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? | 8 |
| Buck. What answer makes your Grace to the rebels’ supplication? | |
| K. Hen. I’ll send some holy bishop to entreat; | |
| For God forbid so many simple souls | |
| Should perish by the sword! And I myself, | 12 |
| Rather than bloody war shall cut them short, | |
| Will parley with Jack Cade their general. | |
| But stay, I’ll read it over once again. | |
| Q. Mar. Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely face | 16 |
| Rul’d like a wandering planet over me, | |
| And could it not enforce them to relent, | |
| That were unworthy to behold the same? | |
| K. Hen. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head. | 20 |
| Say. Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his. | |
| K. Hen. How now, madam! | |
| Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk’s death? | |
| I fear me, love, if that I had been dead, | 24 |
| Thou wouldest not have mourn’d so much for me. | |
| Q. Mar. No, my love; I should not mourn, but die for thee. | |
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Enter a Messenger. | |
| K. Hen. How now! what news? why com’st thou in such haste? | 28 |
| Mess. 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, | 32 |
| 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 | 36 |
| Hath given them heart and courage to proceed. | |
| All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, | |
| They call false caterpillars, and intend their death. | |
| K. Hen. O graceless men! they know not what they do. | 40 |
| Buck. My gracious lord, retire to Killingworth, | |
| Until a power be rais’d to put them down | |
| Q. Mar. Ah! were the Duke of Suffolk now alive, | |
| These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas’d. | 44 |
| K. Hen. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee, | |
| Therefore away with us to Killingworth. | |
| Say. So might your Grace’s person be in danger. | |
| The sight of me is odious in their eyes; | 48 |
| And therefore in this city will I stay, | |
| And live alone as secret as I may. | |
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Enter a second Messenger. | |
| Sec. Mess. Jack Cade hath gotten London bridge; | 52 |
| The citizens fly 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. | 56 |
| Buck. Then linger not, my lord; away! take horse. | |
| K. Hen. Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will succour us. | |
| Q. Mar. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceas’d. | |
| K. Hen. [To LORD SAY.] Farewell, my lord: trust not the Kentish rebels. | 60 |
| Buck. Trust nobody, for fear you be betray’d. | |
| Say. The trust I have is in mine innocence, | |
| And therefore am I bold and resolute. [Exeunt. | |