Pist. A noble* shalt thou have, and present pay;
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood:
I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me;-
Is not this just ?-for I shall sutler be

Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.

Nym. I shall have

my noble?

Pist. In cash most justly paid.

Nym. Well then, that's the humour of it.

Re-enter Mrs. Quickly.

Quick. As ever you came of women, come in quickly to sir John: Ah, poor heart! he is so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lament. able to behold. Sweet men, come to him.

Nym. The king hath run bad humours on the knight, that's the even of it.

Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right;

His heart is fracted and corroborate.

it

Nym. The king is a good king: but it must be as may; he passes some humours, and careers. Pist. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live.

[Exeunt.

A coin, value six shillings and eight-pence.

SCENE II.

Southampton. A council-chamber.

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 bosom 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 fa

vours,

That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
His sovereign's life to death and treachery!

Trumpet sounds. Enter King Henry, Scroop, Cam bridge, Grey, Lords, and Attendants.

K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.

My lord of Cambridge, and my kind lord of Ma

sham,

And you, my gentle knight,

thoughts:

-give me your

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?

• Force.

Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his

best.

K. Hen. I doubt not that: since we are well per

suaded,

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 than quittancet 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

• Compounded.

Better information.

+ Recompense.

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 care,

And tender preservation of our person,

Would have him punish'd. And now to our French causes;

Who are the latet 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 Masham;-and, sir

knight,

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, gentle. men?

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.
I do confess my fault;
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.-

* Prayers.

+ Lately appointed.

Living.

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,
Would'st 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 should'st do treason,

Rendered thee pliable.