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 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 dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours, |
| That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell |
| His sovereign's life to death and treachery! |
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Trumpets sound. 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. True: 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 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 care, |
| And tender preservation of our person, |
| Would have him punish'd. And now to our French causes: |
| 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 I, 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, 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. 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 you. |
| 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 mightst 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 |
| Hath 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 demon that hath gull'd thee thus |
| Should with his lion gait walk the whole world, |
| He might return to vasty Tartar 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 indu'd |
| 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! |
| Exe. 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 sufferance heartily will rejoice, |
| Beseeching God and you to pardon me. |
| Grey. Never did faithful subject more rejoice |
| At the discovery of most 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 sentence. |
| You have conspir'd against our royal person, |
| Join'd with an enemy proelaim'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 into desolation. |
| Touching our person seek we no revenge; |
| But we our kingdom's safety must so tender, |
| Whose ruin you have 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 CAMBRIDGE, SCROOP, and GREY, 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 lurking 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, |
| Putting it straight in expedition. |
| Cheerly to sea! the signs of war advance: |
| No king of England, if not king of France. [Exeunt. |
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