And have ensconc'd themselves upon Mile-end,
And presently our armed men must out.
You being Captain of two companies,

In honour of your valour and your skill,

Must lead the vaward. God and right stand with ye! Shore. Friend, tell my lord I'll wait upon him strait. Jane. Friend, tell my lord he does my husband wrong, To set him foremost in the danger still.

Ye shall not go, if I may have my will.

Shore. Peace, wife; no more. Friend, I will follow ye. Exit Officer.

Jane. I'faith, ye shall not. Prithee, do not go.
Shore. Not go, sweetheart? that were a coward's trick,
A traitor's part, to shrink when others fight.
Envy shall never say that Matthew Shore,
The goldsmith, stay'd, when other men went out
To meet his King's and country's enemy.
No, Jane; 'gainst all the rebels on Mile-end,
I dare alone King Edward's right defend.
Jane. If you be slain, what shall become of me?
Shore. Right well, my wench: enow will marry thee.
I leave thee worth at least five thousand pound.
Jane Marry again? that word my heart doth wound.
(Weeps.) I'll never marry, nor I will not live

If thou be kill'd. Let me go with thee, Mat.
Shore. 'Tis idle talk, good Jane; no more of that.
Go to my lady Mayoress and the rest,

As you are still companion with the best;

With them be merry, and pray for our good speed. Jane. To part from thee, my very heart doth bleed. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—Mile End.

Enter Falconbridge with his Troops, marching. Fal. Yet stand we in the sight of uprear'd Troy, And suck the air she draws: our very breath

Flies from our nostrils warm unto the walls.

We beard her bristling spires, her battled towers,
And proudly stand and gaze her in the face.
Look on me, and I doubt not ye imagine
My worth as great as any one of your's,
My fortunes, would I basely fawn on Edward,
To be as fair as any man's in England.

But he that keeps your Sovereign in the Tower
Hath seiz'd my land, and robb'd me of my right.
I am a gentleman as well as he.

What he hath got, he holds by tyranny.
Now, if you faint, or cowardly should fly,
There is no hope for any one to live.
We hear the Londoners will leave the city,
And bid us battle here on Mile-end Green,
Whom if we vanquish, then we take the town,
And ride in triumph thorough Cheap to Paul's.
The Mint is our's, Cheap, Lombard Street, our own;
The meanest soldier wealthier than a king.

Spi. March fair, ye rogues, all kings or capknitters. Dost thou hear, Tom Falconbridge? I prithee grant me one boon I shall ask thee.

Fal. What is it, Ned? it's hard I should deny thee.

Spi. Why, that when we have won the city, as we cannot choose but win it, that I may have the knighting of all these rogues and rascals.

Fal. What then?

Spi. What then? Zounds, I scorn your scurvy, wrymouthed "What then?" Now, a pox take me if I fight a blow.

Fal. Why this is fine. Go to; knight whom thou wilt. Spi. Who? I knight any of them? I'll see them hanged first for a company of tattered ragged rascals. If I were a king, I would not knight one of them. Chub. What, not me, Cavallero Chub?

Spi. Yes, I care not if I knight thee; and yet I'll see thee hanged ere I'll honour thee so much. I care not so much for the matter; but I would not be denied my humour.

Fal. Why, what a perverse fellow art thou, Ned!

Spi. Ho, my fine Tom, my brave Falconbridge, my mad Greek, my lusty Neville ! thou art a king, a Caesar ! a plague on thee; I love thee not, and yet I'll die with thee.

Enter the Lord Mayor, Recorder, Josselin, Shore, and their Soldiers, marching.

Mayor. See how rebellion can exalt itself, Pruning the feathers of sick discipline.

Rec. They think they can outlook our truer looks. Shore. Mark but the scornful eye of Falconbridge. Mayor. I rather think 'tis fear upon his cheek Deciphers pale disturbance in his heart.

Jos. Our coming forth hath—well, I say no more;
But shall we take occasion, and so forth?
Rebellion should have no respite. Oh, my lord,
The time hath been—but all is one for that.

Spi. How like a troop of rank o'erridden jades
Yon bushy-bearded citizens appear!

Chub. Nay; rather so many men in the moon, And every one a furzen bush in his mouth.

Spi. The four and twenty wards! now, fair befal them;

Would any one have thought before this hour,
There had been such increase of muddy slaves?

Fal. Peace, soldiers! they are resolute, you see;
And not to flatter us, nor favour them,
Such haughty stomachs seldom have been seen
Imbodied in the breasts of citizens.

How sternly in their own peculiar strength,
Without the assistance of their ling'ring king,

Did they of late repulse us from their walls!
And now again how expeditiously,

And unexpected, they have met us here!
Were we more deadly incens'd than we are,

I would not but commend their chivalry.

Spi. Captain, shall we go challenge them to fight? 'Sblood! we burn daylight; they will think, anon, We are afraid to see their glittering swords.

Chub. Tell them, they come instead of pudding pies
And Stratford cakes, to make's a banquet here.
Fal. Soft; give me leave; I will devise with words
To weaken and abash their fortitude.

Rec. The bastard offers to come forth, my lord.
Mayor. I am the man intends to answer him.
Fal. Crosby!

Mayor. Traitor!

All. Traitor! zounds, down with him!

Fal. Be patient: give me leave, I say, to speak.
I doubt not but the traitor's name shall rest

With those that keep their lawful King in bonds.
Mean time, ye men of London, once again
Behold my warlike colours are displayed,
Which I have vowed shall never be wrapt up

Until your lofty buildings kiss our feet,

Unless you grant me passage through your streets.
Rec. Passage, say'st thou? That must be o'er our

breasts,

If any passage thou art like to have.

Fal. Why then upon your bodies will I tread,

And wade through standing pools of your lost blood.

Shore. We know thy threats, and reckon them as wind,

Not of sufficient power to shake a reed.

Spi. But we shook your gates not long ago, And made your walls to shake like Irish bogs.

Chub. Ay, and so terrified ye, that not one of ye durst

come to fetch a pint of sack at the Mouth at Bishopsgate; no, not for your lives.

Jos. Ay, but you know what followed, and so forth.

Spi. Et cætera! are you there? methinks, the sight of the dun bull, the Neville's honoured crest, should make you leave your broken sentences, and quite forget ever to speak at all.

Shore. Nay, then, look thou upon our City's arms, Wherein is a bloody dagger: that is it, Wherewith a rebel like to Falconbridge Had his desert, meet for his treachery. Can

you behold that, and not quake for fear? Rec. Since when, it is successively decreed, Traitors with us shall never better speed.

Spi. Captain and fellow-soldiers, talk no more, But draw your meaning forth in downright blows. Fal. Sound then alarum.

Mayor. Do the like for us,

And where the right is, there attend success!

Jos. Stay, and be better advis'd. Why, countrymen, What is this Falconbridge you follow so?

I could instruct you; but you know my mind.
And, Falconbridge, what are these rusticals,
Thou should'st repose such confidence in glass;
Shall I inform thee? No, thou art wise enough.
Edward of York delays the time, you say;
Therefore he will not come. Imagine so.
The city's weak. Hold that opinion still.

And your pretence King Henry's liberty.

True; but as how? Shall I declare you? No.
What then? you'll fight. A God's name, take your choice.
I can no more but give you my advice.

Fal. Away with this parenthesis of words.
Crosby, courage thy men, and on this Green
Whose cause is right, let it be quickly seen.