And find no harbour in a royal heart.

Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought,

And not a thought but thinks on dignity.

♦ My brain more busy than the labouring spider

340 Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.

Well, nobles, well, ’tis politicly done,

To send me packing with an host of men:

I fear me you but warm the starved snake,

Who, cherish’d in your breasts, will sting your hearts.

345 ’Twas men I lack’d and you will give them me:

I take it kindly; yet be well assured

You put sharp weapons in a madman’s hands.

♦ Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,

I will stir up in England some black storm

350 Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell;

And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage

Until the golden circuit on my head,

Like to the glorious sun’s transparent beams,

♦ Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.

355 And, for a minister of my intent,

I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman,

♦ John Cade of Ashford,

To make commotion, as full well he can,

Under the title of John Mortimer.

360 In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade

Oppose himself against a troop of kernes,

♦ And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts

♦ Were almost like a sharp-quill’d porpentine;

♦ And, in the end being rescued, I have seen

365 Him caper upright like a wild Morisco,

Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells.

Full often, like a shag-hair’d crafty kerne,

Hath he conversed with the enemy,

And undiscover’d come to me again

370 And given me notice of their villanies.

This devil here shall be my substitute;

For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,

In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble:

By this I shall perceive the commons’ mind,

375 How they affect the house and claim of York.

Say he be taken, rack’d and tortured,

I know no pain they can inflict upon him

♦ Will make him say I moved him to those arms.

Say that he thrive, as ’tis great like he will,

380 Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength

And reap the harvest which that rascal sow’d;

For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,

♦ And Henry put apart, the next for me. [Exit.