<SPEECH 1><ACT 1><SCENE 2><9%>
<MESSENGER>	<10%>
	My Lord Protector, 'tis his highness' pleasure
	You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban's,
	Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk.
</MESSENGER>

<SPEECH 2><ACT 3><SCENE 1><46%>
<MESSENGER>	<46%>
	Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain,
	To signify that rebels there are up,
	And put the Englishmen unto the sword.
	Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime,
	Before the wound do grow uncurable;
	For, being green, there is great hope of help.
</MESSENGER>

<SPEECH 3><ACT 4><SCENE 4><75%>
<MESSENGER>	<76%>
	The rebels are in Southwark; fly, my lord!
	Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer,
	Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house,
	And calls your Grace usurper openly,
	And vows to crown himself in Westminster.
	His army is a ragged multitude
	Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless:
	Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death
	Hath given them heart and courage to proceed.
	All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen,
	They call false caterpillars, and intend their death.
</MESSENGER>

<SPEECH 4><ACT 4><SCENE 7><78%>
<MESSENGER>	<79%>
	My lord, a prize, a prize! here's the Lord Say, which sold the towns in France; he that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens, and one shilling to the pound, the last subsidy.

</MESSENGER>

<SPEECH 5><ACT 4><SCENE 1><85%>
<MESSENGER>	<85%>
	Please it your Grace to be advertised,
	The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland;
	And with a puissant and a mighty power
	Of Gallowglasses, and stout kerns,
	Is marching hitherward in proud array;
	And still proclaimeth, as he comes along,
	His arms are only to remove from thee
	The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor.
</MESSENGER>

