Enter King, Lord Mayor, Morton, Newton, and Noblemen.
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[452] opinions generally,
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
Be ta'en from all this rout in general,
If then at instant of the dying hour,
Your grace's honourable pardon come,
To men half-dead, who lie killed in conceit:[453]
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[454] apace,
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?
Enter some of the Rebels, led to execution.
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,
Whose minds are softer than the foremost twain:
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.