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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

Who are the late commissioners?

Cam. I am 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

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 chased 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.-
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 coined 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 trcasons,

Do botch and bungle up damnation
With patches, colours, and with forms being fetched
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,
Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.
If that same dæmon, that hath gulled 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.
0, 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 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 enterprize: My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. K. Hen. God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sen

tence. You have conspired against our royal person, Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his coffers Received 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 enterprize 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.


SCENE III.London. Mrs Quickly's House in


Enter Pistol, Mrs QUICKLY, NYM, BARDOLPH, and

Boy. Quick. Pr’ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.

Pist. No; for my manly heart doth yearn. Bardolph, be blithe ;-Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins ; Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead, And we must yearn therefore.

Bard. 'Would, I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven, or in hell !

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