Enter JOSSELIN on the walls.

Jos. Sirrah Spicing, if Spicing be thy name, we are here for matters and causes as it might seem for the king: therefore, it were good, and so forth.

Spi. Open the gates; or, if we be the picklocks, ye rogues, we'll play the mastiff dogs amongst you. If I worry not a thousand of you with my teeth, let me be hanged in a packthread, and so forth.

Jos. Fond fellow, justice is to be used; ay, marry, is it; and law in some sort, as it were, is to be followed. Oh, God forbid else! This our magistrate hath power as might seem, and so forth; for duty is to be observed, and officers must be obeyed, in sort and calling, and so forth.

Spi. We'll talk more anon, good Master And-so-forth.

[A very fierce assault on all sides, in which the Apprentices do great service.

Enter Falconbridge, angry, with his men.

Fal. Why this is to trust to these base rogues,
This dirty scum of rascal peasantry,
This heartless rout of base rascality.

A plague upon you all, you cowardly rogues,
You craven curs, you slimy muddy clowns,
Whose courage but consists in multitude,
Like sheep and neat that follow one another,
Which, if one run away, all follow after;
This hedge-bred rascal, this filthy fry of ditches;
A vengeance take you all! This 'tis to lead you.
Now do you cry and shriek at every shock;

A hot consuming mischief follow you!

Spi. 'Swounds! scale, rogues, scale! A Falconbridge, a Falconbridge !

Enter the Lord Mayor and his train from the gates.

Mayor. Set open the gates! Nay, then, we'll sally out. It never shall be said, when I was Mayor, The Londoners were shut up in the city. Then cry "King Edward," and let's issue out. Fal. Now, if ye be true-hearted Englishmen, The gates set open and the portcullis up, Let's pell-mell in, to stop their passage out. He that first enters be possess'd of Cheap! I give him it freely, and the chiefest wench.

Spi. That he can find. Let that lie in the bargain. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. continues.

The Lord Mayor and the Citizens having valiantly repulsed the Rebels from the city, enter Falconbridge and Spicing, and their train, wounded and dismayed.

Spi. Hearest thou, general? there's hot drinking at the Mouth of Bishop's-gate, for our soldiers are all mouth. They lie like rascals, with their brains beaten out. Therefore, since we are all like to feed hogs in Houndsditch, let us retire our troops, and save our maimed men : or, if we issue further, we are put to the sword, every mother's son of us.

Fal. Art thou that villain, in whose damned mouth Was never heard of any word but wounds?

Whose recreant limbs are notch'd with gaping scars,
Thicker than any carking craftsman's score,

Whose very scalp is scratch'd, and craz'd, and broken,
Like an old mazer beaten on the stones;

And stand'st thou now to save our maimed men?
A plague upon thee, coward!

Spi. Why how now, base Thomas? 'Swounds! wert thou a bass-viol, thou art but a rascal and a rebel, as I

am, hearest thou? If I do not turn true subject, and leave thee, let me be worried with dogs. 'Swounds! dost thou impeach my manhood? Tom Neville, thou had'st as good to have damned thyself as uttered such a word. Flatly, I forsake thee; and all that love Ned Spicing, follow me! [The rest offer to follow. Fal. Come, come, ye testy fool, thou seest me griev'd, Yet can'st not bear with mine infirmity. Thou know'st I hold thee for as tall a man As any lives or breathes our English air. I know there lives not a more fiery spirit, A more resolved, valiant. A plague upon it! Thou know'st I love thee; yet if a word escape My lips in anger, how testy then thou art! I had rather all men left me than thyself. Thou art my soul: thou art my genius. I cannot live without thee, not an hour. (Aside.) Thus must I still be forc'd, against my will, To soothe this dirty slave, this cowardly rascal. (Aloud.) Come, come, be friends, ye testy firebrand ! We must retire. There is no remedy.

Spi. Nay, Tom, if thou wilt have me mount on the

walls,

And cast myself down headlong on their pikes,

I'll do it. But to impeach my valour !
Had any man but thou spoke half so much,
I would have split his heart. Still beware
My valour such words go hardly down.
Well, I am friends: thou thought'st not as thou spakest.
Fal. No; on my soul! thou think'st not that I did.
Sound a retreat there, I command ye, strait!

But whither shall we retire?

Spi. To Mile-end Green. There is no fitter place. Fal. Then let us back retire to Mile-end Green, And there expect fresh succour from our friends,

With such supply as shall ere long assure

The city is our own.

March on! Away!

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. continues.

Enter the Lord Mayor, with his train, and the
Apprentices.

Mayor. Ye have bestirr'd ye like good citizens,
And shown yourselves true subjects to your king.
You worthily, prentices, bestirr'd yourselves,
That it did cheer my heart to see your valour.
The rebels are retir'd to Mile-end Green.

Rec. Where so we may not suffer them to rest, But issue forth upon them with fresh force.

Jos. My lord Mayor, diligence doth well, and so forth. Matters must be looked into as they ought, indeed should they. When things are well done, they are, and so forth; for causes and things must indeed be looked into.

Mayor. Well, sir, we very well conceive your meaning, And you have shown yourself a worthy gentleman. See that our walls be kept with courts of guard, And well defended against the enemy;

For we will now withdraw us to Guildhall,

To take advice what further must be done.

ACT II.

Scene I.—Shore's House.

Enter Shore and Jane, his Wife.

[Exeunt.

Shore. Be not afraid, sweetheart, the worst is past: God have the praise, the victory is our's. We have prevail'd: the rebels are repuls'd, And every street of London soundeth joy. Can'st thou, then, gentle Jane, be sad alone?

Jane. I am not sad now you are here with me, My joy, my hope, my comfort, and my love, My dear, dear husband, kindest Matthew Shore. But when these arms, the circles of my soul, Were in the fight so forward, as I heard, How could I choose, sweetheart, but be afraid? Shore. Why dost thou tremble now, when peril's past? Jane. I think upon the horror of the time. But tell me why you fought so desperately?

Shore. First, to maintain King Edward's royalty;
Next, to defend the city's liberty;

But chiefly, Jane, to keep thee from the soil
Of him that to my face did vow thy spoil.

Had he prevail'd, where then had been our lives?
Dishonour'd our daughters, ravish'd our fair wives;
Possess'd our goods, and set our servants free;
Yet all this nothing to the loss of thee.

Jane. Of me, sweetheart? why how should I be lost?
Were I by thousand storms of fortune tost,
And should endure the poorest wretched life,
Yet Jane will be thy honest loyal wife.
The greatest prince the sun did ever see,

Shall never make me prove untrue to thee.

Shore. I fear not fair means, but a rebel's force.

Jane. These hands shall make this body a dead corse

Ere force or flatt'ry shall mine honour stain.

Shore. True fame survives, when death the flesh hath slain.

Enter an Officer from the Lord Mayor.

Officer. God save ye, master Shore, and, mistress, by your leave;

Sir, my lord Mayor sends for you by me,
And prays your speedy presence at Guildhall.
There's news the rebels have made head again,