Thy hand is but a finger to my fift,

Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon,

My foot fhall fight with all the ftrength thou haft ;
And if mine arm be heaved in the air,

Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth:

As for more words, let this my fword report

(Whose greatness answers words) what speech forbears. Cade. By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard. Steel, if thou turn thine edge, or cut not cut the burly-bon'd clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy fheath, I befeech Jove on my knees thou may'st be turned into hobnails.

Here they fight.

OI am slain! famine, and no other, hath flain me; let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have loft, and I'd defy them all. Wither, garden, and be henceforth a burying-place to all that do dwell in this houfe, because the unconquer'd foul of Cade is filed!

Iden. Is't Cade that I have flain, that monftrous traitor? Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead, Ne'er fhall this blood be wiped from thy point, But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat,

To emblaze the honour which thy mafter got.

Cade. Iden, frewel, and be proud of thy victory: tell Kent from me fhe hath loft her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards; for I that never fear'd any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour.

[Dies. Iden. How much thou wrong'ft me, heaven be my judge! Die, damned wretch, the curfe of her that bare thee! And as I thruft thy body in with my fword, So wifh I, I might thruft thy foul to hell. Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels Unto a dunghill which fhall be thy grave, And there cut off thy moft ungracious head, Which I will bear in triumph to the King, Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.

[Exit.

ACT

Enter York, and his army of Irish, with drum and colours. Rom Ireland thus comes York to claim his right,

York. Fand pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head.

Ring bells aloud, burn bonfires clear and bright,
To entertain great England's lawful King!
Ah Majefty! who would not buy thee dear?
Let them obey that know not how to rule.
This hand was made to handle nought but gold,
I cannot give due action to my words,
Except a fword or fcepter balance it.

A scepter fhall it have, (have I a foul,)

On which I'll tofs the Flower-de-Luce of France.
Enter Buckingham.

Whom have we here? Buckingham to disturb me?
The King hath fent him fure: I muft diffemble.

Buck. York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well. York. Humphry of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting. Art thou a meffenger, or come of pleasure ?

Buck. A meffenger from Henry our dread Liege,
To know the reafon of these arms in peace ;
Or why thou being a fubject as I am,
Against thy oath and true allegiance fworn,
Should'ft raise fo great a power without his leave;
Or dare to bring thy force fo near the Court.
York. Scarce can I speak, my choler is fo great.
Oh! I could hew up rocks and fight with flint,
I am fo angry at thefe abject terms.
And now, like Ajax Telamonius,

On fheep or oxen could I fpend my fury.
I am far better born than is the King:
More like a King, more kingly in my thoughts.
But I must make fair weather yet a while,
'Till Henry be more weak and I more strong.
O Buckingham! I pr'ythee, pardon me,
That I have giv'n no answer all this while;
My mind was troubled with deep melancholy.
The caufe why I have brought this army hither,

[Afide,

Is to remove proud Somerset from the King,

Seditious to his Grace and to the state.

Buck. That is too much prefumption on thy part;
But if thy arms be to no other end,

The King hath yielded unto thy demand:

The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower.
York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner?
Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prifoner.
York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers.
Soldiers, I thank you all; difperfe your felves;
Meet me to-morrow in St. George's field,
You shall have pay and ev'ry thing you wish.
And let my Sovereign, virtuous Henry,
Command my eldest fon, nay, all my fons,
As pledges of my fealty and love,
I'll fend them all as willing as I live;
Lands, goods, horfe, armour, any thing I have
Is his to ufe, fo Somerfet may die.

Buck. York, I commend this kind submission,
We twain will go into his Highness' tent.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The King's Pavilion. Enter King Henry and Attendants. Re-enter Buckingham and York with Attendants.

K. Henry. Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us, That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm? York. In all fubmiffion and humility,

York doth prefent himself unto your Highness.

K. Henry. Then what intend thefe forces thou doft bring?
York. To have the traitor Somerset from hence,

And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade,

Whom fince I heard to be discomfited.

Enter Iden with Cade's head.

Iden. If one fo rude and of fo mean condition

May pass into the presence of a King,

Lo, I prefent your Grace a traitor's head;

The head of Cade, whom I in combat few.

K. Henry. The head of Cade? great God! how juft art

thou!

O let me view his vifage being dead,

That living wrought me fuch exceeding trouble.

Tell

Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that flew him?
Iden. I was, an't like your Majesty.

K. Henry. How art thou call'd? and what is thy degree?
Iden. Ev'n Alexander Iden, that's my name,

A poor Efquire of Kent that loves the King.

Buck. So please it you, my Lord, 'twere not amifs He were created Knight for his good service.

K. Henry. Iden, kneel down; and rife thou up a Knight: We give thee for reward a thousand marks, And will that thou henceforth attend on us. Iden. May Iden live to merit fuch a bounty, And never live but true unto his Liege !

SCENE III.

Enter Queen Margaret and Somerfet.

K.Henry. See, Buckingham, Somer fet comes with theQueen ; Go, bid her hide him quickly from the Duke.

Q. Mar. For thoufand Yorks he fhall not hide his head, But boldly stand and front him to his face.

York. How now? is Somerfet at liberty?
Then, York, unloose thy long imprisoned thoughts,
And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart.
Shall I endure the fight of Somerfet?

Falfe King, why haft thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse?
King did I call thee? no, thou art no King:
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,

Which dar'ft not, no, nor canft not rule a traitor.
That head of thine doth not become a crown:
Thy hand is made to grafp a palmer's staff,
And not to grace an awful princely fcepter.
That gold muft round engirt these brows of mine,
Whofe fmile and frown (like to Achilles' spear *)

The ftory is that Telephus the Son of Hercules being King of Myfia oppofed the paffage of the Greeks to Trey, and being grievously wounded by Ahilles confulted the oracle how he might be cured. The answer he received was that nothing but the fame Spear which gave the Wound could heal it: upon which he made friends to Achilles who by the ruft from the teel of his Spear fcraped into the Wound cured him. And in return for fo great a benefit Telephus followed Achilles as an Auxiliary to the hege of Troy. Ovid refers to this Story in the following vertes:

Is able with the change to kill and cure.
Here is a hand to hold a fcepter up,

And with the fame to act controlling laws :
Give place; by heaven, thou fhalt rule no more
O'er him, whom heav'n created for thy ruler.
Sm. O monftrous traitor! I arreft thee, York,
Of capital treafon 'gainst the King and crown;
Obey, audacious traitor, kneel for grace.

York. Sirrah, call in my fons to be my bail:
Would't have me kneel? firft, let me afk of them,
If they can brook I bow a knee to man.

I know, ere they will let me go to ward,
They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement.
Q. Mar. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amain,
To fay, if that the baftard boys of York
Shall be the furety for their traitor father.
York. O blood-befpotted Neapolitan,
Out-caft of Naples, England's bloody scourge!
The fons of York, thy betters in their birth,
Shall be their father's bail, and bane to thofe
That for my furety will refufe the boys.

Enter Edward Plantagenet and Richard Plantagenet. See where they come, I'll warrant they'll make it good. Enter Clifford,

Q. Mar. And here comes Clifford, to deny their bail. Clif. Health and all happiness to my Lord the King! York. I thank thee, Clifford; fay, what news with thee? Nay, do not fright me with an angry look;

We are thy Sovereign, Clifford, kneel again;

For thy mistaking fo, we pardon thee.

Clif. This is my King, York, I do not mistake,

But thou mistak'ft me much to think I do;

To Bedlam with him, is the man grown mad?

K. Henry. Ay, Clifford, a Bedlam and ambitious humour Makes him oppose himself against his King.

Vulnus in Herculeo qua quondam fecerat hofte
Vulneris auxilium Pelias bafta tulit.

And Propertius,

Myfus & Emoniâ juvenis quâ cufpide vulnus
Sen erat, bác ipsa cuppide fenfit opem.