Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORELAND.
Bed. 'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these traitors. Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by.
West. How smooth and even they do bear themselves! As if allegiance in their bosoms sat,
Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty.
Bed. The king hath note of all that they intend, By interception which they dream not of.
Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath cloy'd and grac'd with princely favours,— That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell His sovereign's life to death and treachery!
Trumpet sounds. Enter KING HENRY, SCROOP, CAMBRIDGE, GREY, Lords, and Attendants.
K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. My lord of Cambridge, and my kind lord of Masham,And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts: Think you not, that the powers we bear with us, Will cut their passage through the force of France; Doing the execution, and the act,
For which we have in head assembled them?
Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best. K. Hen. I doubt not that: since we are well persuaded, We carry not a heart with us from hence,
That grows not in a fair consent with ours;
Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish
Success and conquest to attend on us.
Cam. Never was monarch better fear'd, and lov'd,
Than is your majesty; there's not, I think, a subject,
That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness,
Under the sweet shade of your government.
Grey. Even those that were your father's enemies, Have steep'd their galls in honey; and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal.
K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of thankfulness; And shall forget the office of our hand, Sooner that quittance of desert and merit, According to the weight and worthiness.
Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews toil;
And labour shall refresh itself with hope,
To do your grace incessant services.
K. Hen. We judge no less.-Uncle of Exeter,
Enlarge the man committed yesterday,
That rail'd against our person: we consider,
It was excess of wine that set him on :
And, on his more advice, we pardon him.
Scroop. That's mercy, but too much security:
Let him be punish'd, sovereign; lest example
'Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.
K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful.
Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish too. Grey. Sir, you show great mercy, if you give him life, After the taste of much correction.
K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and care of me Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch. If little faults proceeding on distemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye, When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested, Appear before us?-We'll yet enlarge that man, Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey,-in their dear
And tender preservation of our person,―
Would have him punish'd. And now to our French
Who are the late commissioners?
Cam. I one, my lord;
Your highness bade me ask for it to-day.
Scroop. So did you me, my liege.
Grey. And me, my royal sovereign.
K. Hen. Then, Richard, earl of Cambridge, there is yours;
There yours, lord Scroop of Marsham ;—and, sir kuight,
Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours:-
Read them; and know, I know your worthiness.-
My lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter,—
We will aboard to-night.-Why, how now, gentlemen?
What see you in those papers, that you lose
So much complexion?-look ye, how they change!
Their cheeks are paper.-Why, what read you there,
That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood
Out of appearance?
Cam.
And do submit me to your highness' mercy.
Grey. Scroop. To which we all appeal.
K. Hen. The mercy, that was quick, in us but late,
By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd:
You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy;
For your own reasons turn into your bosoms,
As dogs upon their masters, worrying them.-
See you, my princes, and my noble peers,
These English monsters! My lord of Cambridge here,—
You know, how apt our love was, to accord
To furnish him with all appertinents
Belonging to his honour; and this man
Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir'd,
And sworn unto the practices of France,
To kill us here in Hampton; to the which,
This knight, no less for bounty bound to us
Than Cambridge is,-hath likewise sworn.-But O!
What shall I say to thee, lord Scroop; thou cruel,
Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature!
Thou, that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
That knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
That almost might'st have coin'd me into gold,
Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use?
May it be possible, that foreign hire
Could out of thee extract one spark of evil,
That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange,
That, though the truth of it stands off as gross
As black from white, my eye will scarcely see it.
Treason, and murder, ever kept together,
As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,
Working so grossly in a natural cause,
That admiration did not whoop at them:
But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
Wonder, to wait on treason, and on murder:
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was,
'That wrought upon thee so preposterously,
H'ath got the voice in hell for excellence:
And other devils, that suggest by treasons,
Do botch and bungle up damnation
With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch'd
From glistering semblances of piety;
But he, that temper'd thee, bade thee stand up,
Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.
If that same dæmon, that hath gull'd thee thus,
Should with his lion gait walk the whole world,
He might return to vasty Tarlar back,
And tell the legions-I can never win
A soul so easy as that Englishman's.
O, how hast thou with jealousy infected
The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful?
Why, so didst thou: Seem they grave and learned?
Why, so didst thou: Come they of noble family?
Why, so didst thou: Seem they religious?
Why, so didst thou: Or are they spare in diet;
Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger;
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood;
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement;
Not working with the eye, without the ear,
And, but in purged judgment, trusting neither?
Such, and so finely bolted, didst thou seem:
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,
To mark the full-fraught man, and best indued,
With some suspicion. I will weep for thee;
For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like
Another fall of man.-Their faults are open,
Arrest them to the answer of the law;-
And God acquit them of their practices!
Ere. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard, earl of Cambridge.
I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry, lord Scroop of Masham.
I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland.
Scroop. Our purposes God justly hath discover'd; And I repent my fault more than my death;
Which I beseech your highness to forgive,
Although my body pay the price of it.
Cam. For me, the gold of France did not seduce; Although I did admit it as a motive,
The sooner to effect what I intended:
But God be thanked for prevention;
Which I in sufference heartily will rejoice,
Beseeching God, and you, to pardon me.
Grey. Never did faithful subject more rejoice
At the discovery of more dangerous treason,
Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself,
Prevented from a damned enterprise :
My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
K. Hen. God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sen-
You have conspir'd against our royal person,
Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his coffers Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death;
Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter,
His princes and his peers to servitude,
His subjects to oppression and contempt,
And his whole kingdom unto desolation.
Touching our person, seek we no revenge;
But we our kingdom's safety must so tender,
Whose ruin you three sought, that to her laws
We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence,
Poor miserable wretches, to your death:
The taste whereof, God, of his mercy, give you
Patience to endure, and true repentance
Of all your dear offences!-Bear them hence.
[Exeunt Conspirators, guarded.
Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
We doubt not of a fair and lucky war;
Since God so graciously hath brought to light,
This dangerous treason, larking in our way,
To hinder our beginnings, we doubt not now,
But every rub is smoothed on our way.
Then, forth, dear countrymen; let us deliver
Our puissance into the hand of God,
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