 
King. Lord Mayor and well-beloved friends, Whose readiness in aid of us and ours Hath given just trial of your loyalty And love you bear to us and to our land: Sith by the help and mighty hand of God These foul, unnatural broils are quieted, And this unhappy tumult well appeased: Having, as law and duty binds us to, Given both due praise and sacrifice of thanks Unto our God, from whom this goodness comes: Let me now to your counsel recommend, And to your sad The end of all these great and high affairs, This mighty business that we have in hand. And that I may in brief unfold my mind, My lords, I would not yet—but mercy should— Against the law in this hard case prevail; And as I gave my word unto you all That, if they then had left their mutiny, Or rather had let fall their wrongful arms, Their pardon then should have been general, So will I not; yet God forbid I should (Though law, I know, exact it at my hands) Behold so many of my countrymen All done to death and strangled in one day, The end is this: that of that careless rout, That hath so far unnaturally rebelled, The chief offenders may be punished: And thus you know my mind, and so, my lords, Proceed, I pray you, and no otherwise. New. Sith mercy in a prince resembleth right The gladsome sunshine in a winter's day, Pleaseth your grace to pardon me to speak: When all the hope of life and breathing here If then at instant of the dying hour, Your grace's honourable pardon come, To men half-dead, who lie killed in conceit: Then, think I, it will be more gracious, Than if it offered were so hastily: When thread of life is almost fret in twain, To give it strength breeds thanks and wonder too. Mayor. So many as are ta'en within the city Are fast in hold, to know your grace's will. King. There is but one or two in all the rout, Whom we would have to die for this offence, Especially that by name are noted men. One is a naughty and seditious priest; They call him Ball, as we are let to know, A person more notorious than the rest. But this I do refer to your dispose. N. Pleaseth your grace, they have been rid Such special men as we could possibly find, And many of the common rout among; And yet survives this Ball, that cursed priest, And one Wat Tyler, leader of the rest; Whose villanies and outrageous cruelties Have been so barbarously executed: The one with malice of his traitorous taunts, The other with the violence of his hands, That gentle ruth nor mercy hath no ears To hear them speak, much less to pardon them. King. It is enough; I understand your minds; And well I wot, in causes such as these, Kings may be found too full of clemency. But who are those that enter in this place?
New. Pleaseth it your grace, these be the men Whom law hath worthily condemn'd to die, Going to the place of execution. The foremost is that Ball, and next to him Wat Tyler, obstinate rebels both; For all the rest are of a better mould, For, being common soldiers in the camp, Were rather led with counsel of the rest, Descrying better to be pitied. King. Morton, to those condemned men we see Deliver this, a pardon to them all, Excepting namely those two foremost men, I mean the priest and him they call Wat Tyler. To all the rest free pardon we do send, And give the same to understand from us.
My friends and unhappy countrymen, whom the laws of England have worthily condemned unto death for your open and unnatural rebellion against your lawful sovereign and anointed prince, I am sent unto you from the king's most excellent majesty, to give you to understand that, notwithstanding this violence which you have offered to yourselves, in running furiously into the danger of the law, as mad and frantic men upon an edged sword: yet, notwithstanding, I say, that you have gathered rods to scourge your own selves, following desperately your lewd and misgoverned heads, which have haled you on to this wretched and shameful end, which is now imminent over you all, that must in strangling cords die like dogs, and finish your lives in this miserable, reproachful sort, because ye would not live like men: but far unlike yourselves, unlike Englishmen, degenerate from your natural obedience and nature of your country, that by kind bringeth forth none such, or at least brooketh none such, but spits them out for bastards and recreants: notwithstanding, I say, this torment wherein ye now live, looking every hour to suffer such a shameful and most detestable death, as doth commonly belong to such horrible offenders, yet it hath pleased the king of his accustomed goodness to give you your lives, and freely to forgive you your faults, sending by me general pardon to you all, excepting one only accursed and seditious priest, that so far swerved from the truth and his allegiance to his prince, and one Wat Tyler, whose outrage hath been noted so outrageous in all his actions as, for ensample to all Englishmen hereafter, his majesty hath thought good to account him and this parson (first stirrers in this tumult and unnatural rebelling) the greatest offenders that now live to grieve his majesty; and thus I have delivered the message of the king, which is in effect general pardon to you all, and a sentence of death unto the two arch rebels, John Ball and Wat Tyler. For which great grace, if you think yourselves anything bound to his highness (as infinitely you are), let it appear as far forth hereafter as you may, either by outward signs of duty, or inward loyalty of hearts expressed: and to begin the same, in sign of your thankfulness, say all, God save the king! Cry all. God save the king! W. T. Well, then, we know the worst; He can but hang us, and that is all. Were Jack Straw alive again, And I in as good possibility as ever I was, I would lay a surer trump Ere I would lose so fair a trick. Ball. And what I said in time Of our business, I repent not; And if it were to speak again, Every word should be a whole sermon, So much I repent me! Mort. Away with the rebels; suffer them not to speak. His words are poison in the ears of the people. Away, villain, stain to thy country and thy calling! W. T. Why, Morton, are you so lusty, with a pox? I pulled you out of Rochester Castle by the poll! Mort. And in recompense I will help to set your head on a pole. W. T. Pray you, let's be poll'd first! Mort. Away with the rebels. [Exeunt Rebels. Mort. [returning to the king]. As gave your grace in charge, I have delivered And have proclaimed your grace's pardon 'mongst them all, Save only those two unnatural Englishmen— O, might I say no English nor men!— That Ball and Tyler, cursed rebels both, Whom I commanded to be executed; And in your highness' name have freed all the rest, Whose thankful hearts I find as full replete With signs of joy and duty to your grace, As those unnatural rebels' hateful mouths Are full of foul speeches and unhonourable. King. It is no matter, Morton; let them bark. I trow they cannot bite, when they be dead. And, Lord Mayor, for your valiant act And dangerous attempt in our behalf, To free your country and your king from ill: In our behalf and in our commonweal, We will accept it as the deed deserves, And thank you for this honourable attempt. Mayor. What subjects' hearts could brook the rage of theirs, To vaunt in presence of their sovereign Lord, To brave him to his face before his peers, But would by policy or force attempt To quell the raging of such furious foes? My sovereign lord, 'twas but my duty done, First unto God, next to my lawful king, Proceeding from a true and loyal heart, And so I hope your grace esteems thereof. King. To the end this deed shall rest in memory, Which shall continue for ever to the end, Lord Mayor, I will adjoin to thy degree Another title of a lasting fame. Kneel down, William Walworth, and receive, By mine own hand the Order of Knighthood: Stand up, Sir William, first knight of thy degree, But henceforth all, which shall succeed thy place, Shall have like honour for thy noble deed. Besides that time shall ne'er abridge thy fame, The City arms shall bear for memory The bloody dagger the more for Walworth's honour. Call for your herald, and receive your due. Mayor. My gracious lord, this honourable grace, So far above desert (sith what I did, My duty and allegiance bad me do), Binds me and my successors evermore With sweet encouragement to th' like attempt. Your majesty and all your royal peers Shall find your London such a storehouse still, As not alone you shall command our wealth, But loyal hearts, the treasure of a prince, Shall grow like grains sown in a fertile soil, And God I praise, that with his holy hand Hath given me heart to free my prince and land. King. Then sith these dangerous broils are overpass'd With shedding of so little English blood. 'Tis for the fame and honour of a prince Well to reward the actors of the same. So many of thy brethren as accompanied thee, In Smithfield here about this bold attempt, When time shall serve, I'll knight them as thou art. And so Lord Mayor, Newton, Morton, and the rest, Accompany us to guard us to the tower, Where we'll repose, and rest ourselves all night.
FOOTNOTES:Transcriber's Notes: Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were corrected. Punctuation normalized. Archaic, colloquial, and non-standard spellings retained as printed. |
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