1    Fie on ambition! fie on myself, that have a sword,
2    and yet am ready to famish! These five days have I
3    hid me in these woods and durst not peep out, for
4    all the country is laid for me; but now am I so
5    hungry that if I might have a lease of my life for a
6    thousand years I could stay no longer. Wherefore,
7    on a brick wall have I climbed into this garden, to
8    see if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another
9    while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach
10   this hot weather. And I think this word 'sallet'
11   was born to do me good: for many a time, but for a
12   sallet, my brainpan had been cleft with a brown
13   bill; and many a time, when I have been dry and
14   bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a
15   quart pot to drink in; and now the word 'sallet'
16   must serve me to feed on.

17   Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court,
18   And may enjoy such quiet walks as these?
19   This small inheritance my father left me
20   Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy.
21   I seek not to wax great by others' waning,
22   Or gather wealth, I care not, with what envy:
23   Sufficeth that I have maintains my state
24   And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.

25   Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a
26   stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave.
27   Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand
28   crowns of the king carrying my head to him: but
29   I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow
30   my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part.

31   Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be,
32   I know thee not; why, then, should I betray thee?
33   Is't not enough to break into my garden,
34   And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds,
35   Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner,
36   But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms?

37   Brave thee! ay, by the best blood that ever was
38   broached, and beard thee too. Look on me well: I
39   have eat no meat these five days; yet, come thou and
40   thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead
41   as a doornail, I pray God I may never eat grass more.

42   Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England stands,
43   That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent,
44   Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man.
45   Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine,
46   See if thou canst outface me with thy looks:
47   Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser;
48   Thy hand is but a finger to my fist,
49   Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon;
50   My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast;
51   And if mine arm be heaved in the air,
52   Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth.
53   As for words, whose greatness answers words,
54   Let this my sword report what speech forbears.

55   By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I
56   heard! Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut not out
57   the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou
58   sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God on my knees thou
59   mayst be turned to hobnails.
Here they fight. CADE falls
60   O, I am slain! famine and no other hath slain me:
61   let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me
62   but the ten meals I have lost, and I'll defy them
63   all. Wither, garden; and be henceforth a
64   burying-place to all that do dwell in this house,
65   because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled.

66   Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor?
67   Sword, I will hollow thee for this thy deed,
68   And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead:
69   Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point;
70   But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat,
71   To emblaze the honour that thy master got.

72   Iden, farewell, and be proud of thy victory. Tell
73   Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort
74   all the world to be cowards; for I, that never
75   feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour.

76   How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge.
77   Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee;
78   And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,
79   So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell.
80   Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels
81   Unto a dunghill which shall be thy grave,
82   And there cut off thy most ungracious head;
83   Which I will bear in triumph to the king,
84   Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.