Henry VI, Part II by William Shakespeare
Act 4 - Scene 10
Kent. IDEN’s garden.
Jack Cade : Fie on ambition! fie on myself, that have a sword,
[p]and yet am ready
to famish! These five days have I
[p]hid me in these woods and durst
not peep out, for
[p]all the country is laid for me; but now am I
so
[p]hungry that if I might have a lease of my life for a
[p]thousand
years I could stay no longer. Wherefore,
[p]on a brick wall have I
climbed into this garden, to
[p]see if I can eat grass, or pick a
sallet another
[p]while, which is not amiss to cool a man's
stomach
[p]this hot weather. And I think this word 'sallet'
[p]was
born to do me good: for many a time, but for a
[p]sallet, my brainpan
had been cleft with a brown
[p]bill; and many a time, when I have been
dry and
[p]bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a
[p]quart
pot to drink in; and now the word 'sallet'
[p]must serve me to feed
on.
Alexander Iden : Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court,
[p]And may enjoy such
quiet walks as these?
[p]This small inheritance my father left
me
[p]Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy.
[p]I seek not to wax great
by others' waning,
[p]Or gather wealth, I care not, with what
envy:
[p]Sufficeth that I have maintains my state
[p]And sends the
poor well pleased from my gate.
Jack Cade : Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a
[p]stray, for
entering his fee-simple without leave.
[p]Ah, villain, thou wilt
betray me, and get a thousand
[p]crowns of the king carrying my head
to him: but
[p]I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and
swallow
[p]my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part.
Alexander Iden : Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be,
[p]I know thee not; why,
then, should I betray thee?
[p]Is't not enough to break into my
garden,
[p]And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds,
[p]Climbing
my walls in spite of me the owner,
[p]But thou wilt brave me with
these saucy terms?
Jack Cade : Brave thee! ay, by the best blood that ever was
[p]broached, and beard
thee too. Look on me well: I
[p]have eat no meat these five days; yet,
come thou and
[p]thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as
dead
[p]as a doornail, I pray God I may never eat grass more.
Alexander Iden : Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England stands,
[p]That Alexander
Iden, an esquire of Kent,
[p]Took odds to combat a poor famish'd
man.
[p]Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine,
[p]See if thou canst
outface me with thy looks:
[p]Set limb to limb, and thou art far the
lesser;
[p]Thy hand is but a finger to my fist,
[p]Thy leg a stick
compared with this truncheon;
[p]My foot shall fight with all the
strength thou hast;
[p]And if mine arm be heaved in the air,
[p]Thy
grave is digg'd already in the earth.
[p]As for words, whose greatness
answers words,
[p]Let this my sword report what speech forbears.
Jack Cade : By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I
[p]heard! Steel,
if thou turn the edge, or cut not out
[p]the burly-boned clown in
chines of beef ere thou
[p]sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God on my
knees thou
[p]mayst be turned to hobnails.
[p][Here they fight. CADE
falls]
[p]O, I am slain! famine and no other hath slain me:
[p]let ten
thousand devils come against me, and give me
[p]but the ten meals I
have lost, and I'll defy them
[p]all. Wither, garden; and be
henceforth a
[p]burying-place to all that do dwell in this
house,
[p]because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled.
Alexander Iden : Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor?
[p]Sword, I will
hollow thee for this thy deed,
[p]And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am
dead:
[p]Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point;
[p]But thou
shalt wear it as a herald's coat,
[p]To emblaze the honour that thy
master got.
Jack Cade : Iden, farewell, and be proud of thy victory. Tell
[p]Kent from me, she
hath lost her best man, and exhort
[p]all the world to be cowards; for
I, that never
[p]feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour.
Alexander Iden : How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge.
[p]Die, damned wretch,
the curse of her that bare thee;
[p]And as I thrust thy body in with
my sword,
[p]So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell.
[p]Hence will
I drag thee headlong by the heels
[p]Unto a dunghill which shall be
thy grave,
[p]And there cut off thy most ungracious head;
[p]Which I
will bear in triumph to the king,
[p]Leaving thy trunk for crows to
feed upon.
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Next: Act 5 - Scene 1
