Hol.

And Smith, the weaver

Bev. Argo, their thread of life is spun.

Hol. Come, come, let's fall in with them.

(Enter Cade, Dick, the butcher, Smith, the weaver, and others.) Cade. We, John Cade, so termed from our supposed father

Dick. (Aside.) Or rather, from stealing a cade of herrings.

Cade. For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes.-Command silence.

Dick.

Silence!

Cade. My father was a Mortimer—

Dick. (Aside.) He was an honest man, and a good bricklayer.

Cade. My mother was a Plantagenet

Dick. I knew her well.

Cade. My wife descended of the Lacys

Dick. (Aside.) She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, and sold many laces.

Smith. (Aside.) But now, of late, not able to travel with her furred pack, she washes bucks, here at home.

Cade. Therefore am I of an honorable house.

Dick. Ay, by my faith, the field is honorable; (Aside) and there was he born, under a hedge; for his father had never a house, but the cage.

Cade. Valiant I am.

Smith. (Aside.) You must needs be; for beggary is valiant.

Cade. I am able to endure much.

Dick. No question of that; (Aside) for I have seen him whipped three market days together.

Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire.

Smith. (To Dick.) He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof.

Dick. (To Smith.) But, methinks, he should stand in fear of fire, being so often burnt in the hand for stealing sheep.

Cade. Be brave, then; for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be in England, seven half-penny loaves sold for a penny; the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops; and I will make it felony to drink small beer. All the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And when I am king, as king I will be

All. God save your majesty!

Cade. I thank you, good people.-There shall be no money; all shall eat and drink upon my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers.

Dick. The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.

Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parch. ment? that parchment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man? Some say, the bee stings; but I say, 'tis the bee's wax; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never my own man since. How now? who is there?

(Enter one, bringing in the Clerk of Chatham.)

Smith. The Clerk of Chatham; he can write, and read, and cast accounts.

Cade. O monstrous !

Smith. We took him setting of boy's copies.

Cade. He's a villain !

Smith. He has a book in his pocket, with red letters in't. Cade. Nay, then he's a conjuror.

Dick. Yea, he can make obligations, and write court hand. Cade. I am sorry for❜t: the man is a proper man, on mine honor; unless I find him guilty, he shall not die.

sirrah, I must examine thee: what is thy name? Clerk. Emanuel ?

Dick. "Twill go hard with you.

Come hither,

Cade. Let me alone :-dost thou use to write thy name? or hast thou a mark to thyself, like an honest, plain-dealing man?

Clerk. Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up, that I can write my name.

All. He hath confessed: away with him; he's a villain, and a traitor.

Cade. Away with him, I say: hang him with his pen and inkhorn about his neck.

(Exeunt.)

V. FROM BLACK-EYED SUSAN.-Anonymous.

ADMIRAL-WILLIAM-WITNESSES.

Admiral. Prisoner, as your ship is ordered for instant service, and it has been thought expedient that your shipmates should be witnesses of whatever punishment the court may

award you, if found guilty of the crime wherewith you are charged, it will be sufficient to receive the depositions of the witnesses, without calling for the attendance of Captain Crosstree, whom it is yet impossible to remove from shore. One of the witnesses, I am sorry to say, is your wife; however, out of mercy to your peculiar situation, we have not summoned her to attend.

William. Bless you, your honor, bless you. My wife, Susan, standing here before me, speaking words that would send me to the fore-yard-it had been too much for an old sailor. I thank your honors! If I must work for the dead reckoning, I wouldn't have it in sight of my wife.

Adm. Prisoner, you are charged with an attempt to slay Robert Crosstree, captain in his majesty's navy, and your superior officer. Answer, are you guilty, or not guilty?

Will. I want, your honor, to steer well between the questions. If it be asked, whether I wished to kill the captain? I could, if I'd a mind to brag, show that I loved him-loved him next to my own Susan; all's one for that. I am not guilty of an attempt to kill the captain, but if it be guilt to strike in defense of a sailor's own sheet-anchor, his wife, why, I say guilty, your honor; I say it, and think I've no cause to hang out the red at my fore.

Adm. You plead guilty. Let me, as one of your judges, advise you to reconsider the plea. At least, take the chances which a hearing of your case may allow.

Will. I leave that chance to your own hearts, your honors; if they have not a good word for poor Will, why, it is below the honesty of a sailor, to go upon the half tack of a lawyer.

Adm. You will not retract the plea?

Will. I'm fixed; anchored to it, fore and aft, with chaincable.

Adm. Gentlemen, nothing more remains for us than to consider the justice of our verdict. Although the case of the unfor tunate man admits of many palliatives, still, for the upholding of a necessary discipline, any commiseration would afford a dan. gerous precedent, and, I fear, cannot be indulged. Gentlemen, are you all determined on your verdict? Guilty, or not guilty? All. Guilty.

Adm. It remains, then, for me to pass the sentence of the law. Does no one of your shipmates attend, to speak to your character? Have you no one?

Will. No one, your honor-I didn't think to ask them; but

let the word be passed, and may I never go aloft, if, from the boatswain to the black cook, there's one that can spin a yarn to condemn me.

Adm. Pass the word forward, for witnesses.

(Enter Witness.)

Adm. What are you?

Wit. Boatswain, your honor.

Adm. What know you of the prisoner?

Wit. Know, your honor, the trimmest sailor as ever handled rope; the first on his watch, the last to leave the deck; one as never belonged to the after guard-he has the cleanest top, and the whitest hammock; from reefing a maintop-sail, to stow. ing a netting, give me taut Bill afore any able seaman in his majesty's fleet.

Adm. But what know you of his moral character?

Wit. His moral character, your honor? Why, he plays upon the fiddle like an angel.

Adm.

Are there any other witnesses?

(Another Witness comes forward.) Adm. What do you know of the prisoner ? Wit. Nothing but good, your honor.

Adm. He was never known to disobey command ?

Wit. Never but once, your honor, and that was when he gave me half his grog, when I was upon the black list. Adm. What else do you know?

Wit. Why, this I know, your honor, if William goes aloft, there's sartin promotion for him.

Adm. Have you nothing else to show? Did he never do any great, benevolent action?

Wit. Yes, he twice saved the captain's life, and once duck. ed a Jew slopseller.

Adm. Are there any more witnesses?

Will. Your honors, I feel as if I were in irons, or seized to the grating, to stand here and listen, like the landlord's daughter of the Nelson, to nothing but yarns about sarvice and character. My actions, your honors, are kept in the log-book aloft. If, when that's overhauled, I'm not found a trim seaman, why, it's only throwing salt to fishes, to patter here.

Adm. Gentlemen, are your opinions still unchanged?— Prisoner, what have you to say in arrest of judgment? Now is your time to speak.

Will. In a moment, your honors.-Hang it, my top-lights are rather misty.-Your honors, I had been three years at sea,

and never looked upon, or heard from my wife-as sweet a little craft as was ever launched-I had come ashore, and I was as lively as a petterel in a storm-I found Susan, that's my wife, your honors, all her gilt taken by the land-sharks; but yet all taut, with a face as red and as rosy as the king's head on the side of a fire-bucket. Well, your honors, when we were as merry as a ship's crew on a pay-day, there comes an order to go aboard. I left Susan, and went with the rest of the liberty-men, to ax leave of the first lieutenant. I hadn't been gone the turning of an hour-glass, when I heard Susan giving signals of distress; I out with my cutlass, made all sail, and came up to my craft. I found her battling with a pirate-I never looked at his figure-head; never stopped-would any of your honors? long live you and your wives, say I would any of your honors have rowed along-side, as if you'd been going aboard a royal yacht? No, you wouldn't, for the gilt swabs on your shoulders can't alter the heart that swells beneath-you would have done the same as I did—and what did I ?--Why, I cut him down, like a piece of old junk-had he been the first lord of the Admiralty, I had done it.

VI-THE WILL.-Anonymous.

SWIPES, A BREWER-CURRIE, A SADDLER-FRANK MILLINGTON SQUIRE DRAWL.

Swipes. A sober occasion this, brother Currie. Who would have thought the old lady was so near her end?

Currie. Ah, we must all die, brother Swipes, and those who live longest, outlive the most.

of us.

Swipes. True, true; but since we must die, and leave our earthly possessions, it is well that the law takes such good care Had the old lady her senses, when she departed? Cur. Perfectly, perfectly. Squire Drawl told me she read every word of the testament, aloud, and never signed her name better.

Swipes. Had you any hint from the squire, what disposi tion she made of her property?

Cur. Not a whisper; the squire is as close as an underground tomb; but one of the witnesses hinted to me that she has cut off her graceless nephew with a cent.