To plunder in the tumult.

Mob. Lead us on. Liberty! Justice!

[Exeunt with cries of Liberty! No poll-tax!

No war!

SCENE II. The Tower. King Richard, Archbishop of Canterbury, Walworth, Philpot.

King. What must we do? the danger grows more imminent.

Ay, that, my liege,

To grant them what they ask.
Archbishop.

Were politic. Go boldly forth to meet them,
Grant all they ask - however wild and ruinous
Meantime, the troops you have already summon'd
Will gather round them. Then my Christian power
Absolves you of your promise.

Walworth. Were but their ringleaders cut off, the rabble

Would soon disperse.

Philpot.

United in a mass,

There's nothing can resist them once divide them And they will fall an easy sacrifice.

Archbishop. Lull them by promises― bespeak them fair.

Go forth, my liege- spare not, if need requires,
A solemn oath to ratify the treaty.

King. I dread their fury.

Archbishop.

'Tis a needless dread,

There is divinity about your person;

It is the sacred privilege of Kings,

Howe'er they act, to render no account

To man.

The people have been taught this lesson,

Nor can they soon forget it.

King.

I will go

I will submit to everything they ask;
My day of triumph will arrive at last.

(Shouts without.)

(Enter Messenger.)

Mess. The mob are at the city gates.

Archbishop.

Address them ere too late. I'll remain here,

For they detest me much.

Haste! Haste!

(Shouts again.)

(Enter another Messenger.)

Mess. The Londoners have opened the city gates; The rebels are admitted.

King Fear then must give me courage. My lord

mayor,

Come you with me.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt. Shouts without.

ACT III

Westminster Hall. King, Walworth, Philpot, Sir John Tresilian, etc.

Walworth. My liege, 'twas wisely ordered, to de

stroy

The dunghill rabble, but take prisoner

That old seditious priest: his strange wild notions
Of this equality, when well exposed,

Will create ridicule, and shame the people
Of their late tumults.

Sir John Tr.

Ay, there's nothing like

A fair, free, open trial, where the King

Can choose his jury and appoint his judges.

King. Walworth, I must thank you for my deliver

ance,

'Twas a bold deed to stab him in the parley.

Kneel down, and rise a knight, Sir William Walworth. (Enter Messenger.) ·

Mess. I left them hotly at it. Smithfield smoked With the rebels' blood! your troops fought loyally, There's not a man of them will lend an ear

Why there's fifteen hundred of the mob are killed,

All through his preaching.

Sir John Tr. Prisoner, are you the arch-rebel John Ball?

John Ball. I am John Ball; but I am not a rebel. Take ye the name, who, arrogant in strength, Rebel against the people's sovereignty.

Sir John Tr. John Ball, you are accused of stirring

up

The poor deluded people to rebellion;

Not having the fear of God and of the King
Before your eyes; of preaching up strange notions,
Heretical and treasonous; such as saying

That kings have not a right from Heaven to govern;
That all mankind are equal; and that rank
And the distinctions of society,

Ay, and the sacred rights of property,
Are evil and oppressive; plead you guilty
To this most heavy charge?

John Ball.

If it be guilt,

To preach what you are pleased to call strange

notions,

That all mankind as brethren must be equal;

That privileged orders of society

Are evil and oppressive; that the right

Of property is a juggle to deceive

The poor whom you oppress; I plead me guilty.

Sir John Tr. It is against the custom of this

court

That the prisoner should plead guilty.

John Ball.

Why then put you

The needless question? Sir Judge, let me save

The vain and empty insult of a trial.

What I have done, that I dare justify.

Sir John Tr. Did you not tell the mob they were oppress'd;

And preach upon the equality of man;

With evil intent thereby to stir them up
To tumult and rebellion?

John Ball.

That I told them

That all mankind are equal, is most true:
Ye came as helpless infants to the world;
Ye feel alike the infirmities of nature;
And at last moulder into common clay.
Why then these vain distinctions?

earth

bears not the

Food in abundance?- must your granaries

O'erflow with plenty, while the poor man starves?
Sir Judge, why sit you there, clad in your furs;
Why are your cellars stored with choicest wines?
Your larders hung with dainties, while your vassal,
As virtuous, and as able too by nature,
Though by your selfish tyranny deprived
Of mind's improvement, shivers in his rags,
And starves amid the plenty he creates ?
I have said this is wrong, and I repeat it —
And there will be a time when this great truth
Shall be confess'd-be felt by all mankind.
The electric truth shall run from man to man,
And the blood-cemented pyramid of greatness
Shall fall before the flash.

Sir John Tr.

Audacious rebel;

How darest thou insult this sacred court,

Blaspheming all the dignities of rank?

How could the Government be carried on
Without the sacred orders of the King
And the nobility?

John Ball.

Tell me, Sir Judge,

What does the Government avail the peasant?