Act II, Scene ii: Southampton. A council-chamber. | 'Fore God, his Grace is bold, to trust these traitors. |
| EXETER: | | They shall be apprehended by and by. |
| WESTMORELAND: | | How smooth and even they do bear themselves! | | As if allegiance in their bosoms sat | | Crowned with faith and constant loyalty. |
| BEDFORD: | | The King hath note of all that they intend, | | By interception which they dream not of. |
| EXETER: | | Nay, but the man that was his bed-fellow, | | 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. |
| KING HENRY: | | 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. |
| KING HENRY: | | 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. |
| CAMBRIDGE: | | 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. |
| KING HENRY: | | 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. |
| KING HENRY: | | 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. |
| KING HENRY: | | O, let us yet be merciful. |
| CAMBRIDGE: | | 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. |
| KING HENRY: | | 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? |
| CAMBRIDGE: | | 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. |
| KING HENRY: | | 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 have so cowarded and chas'd your blood | | Out of appearance? |
| CAMBRIDGE: | | I do confess my fault, | | And do submit me to your Highness' mercy. |
| GREY, SCROOP. | | To which we all appeal. |
| KING HENRY: | | 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 an 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 and 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 glist'ring 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 judgement 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! |
| EXETER: | | 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. |
| CAMBRIDGE: | | 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. |
| KING HENRY: | | God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence. | | You have conspir'd 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 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! |
|
|