Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets. And work in their shirt too; as myself, for example, that am a butcher. You men of Kent,-- What say you of Kent? Nothing but this; 'tis 'bona terra, mala gens.' Away with him, away with him! he speaks Latin. Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. Kent, in the Commentaries Caesar writ, Is term'd the civil'st place of this isle: Sweet is the country, because full of riches; The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy; Which makes me hope you are not void of pity. I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy, Yet, to recover them, would lose my life. Justice with favour have I always done; Prayers and tears have moved me, gifts could never. When have I aught exacted at your hands, But to maintain the king, the realm and you? Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, Because my book preferr'd me to the king, And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits, You cannot but forbear to murder me: This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings For your behoof,-- Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field? Great men have reaching hands: oft have I struck Those that I never saw and struck them dead. O monstrous coward! what, to come behind folks? These cheeks are pale for watching for your good. Give him a box o' the ear and that will make 'em red again. Long sitting to determine poor men's causes Hath made me full of sickness and diseases. Ye shall have a hempen caudle, then, and the help of hatchet. Why dost thou quiver, man? The palsy, and not fear, provokes me. Nay, he nods at us, as who should say, I'll be even with you: I'll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole, or no. Take him away, and behead him. Tell me wherein have I offended most? Have I affected wealth or honour? speak. Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold? Is my apparel sumptuous to behold? Whom have I injured, that ye seek my death? These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding, This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts. O, let me live! I feel remorse in myself with his words; but I'll bridle it: he shall die, an it be but for pleading so well for his life.