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London. Cannon Street.
Enter JACK CADE and the rest, and strikes his staff on London-stone.

Now is Mortimer lord of this city.
And here, sitting upon London-stone, I charge
and command that, of the city's cost, the
pissing-conduit run nothing but claret wine this
first year of our reign. And now henceforward
it shall be treason for any that calls me other
than Lord Mortimer. Enter a Soldier, running.

Jack Cade! Jack Cade!

Knock him down there. [They kill him.

If this fellow be wise, he'll never
call ye Jack Cade more: I think he hath a
very fair warning.

My lord, there's an army gathered
together in Smithfield.

Come, then, let's go fight with them:
but first, go and set London bridge on fire;
and, if you can, burn down the Tower too.
Come, let's away. [Exeunt.

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