King Henry V | Page 9

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.
[Trumpets sound. Enter King Henry, Scroop, Cambridge,
and Grey.]
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