Southampton. A Council-chamber.
 Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORELAND.

Bedford	'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,
	Crownd 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 bedfellow,
	Whom he hath dulled and cloyed with gracious favours,
	That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
	His sovereign's life to death and treachery.

                             Sound trumpets.
         Enter the KING, SCROOP, CAMBRIDGE, GREY, and ATTENDANTS.

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 nor one behind that doth not wish
	Success and conquest to attend on us.

Cambridge	Never was monarch better feared and loved
	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 steeped 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 steeld 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 railed against our person. We consider
	It was the heat 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 punished, 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 winked at, how shall we stretch our eye
	When capital crimes, chewed, swallowed 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 punished. And now to our French causes:
	Who are the late commissioners?

Cambridge										I one, my lord.
	Your highness bade me ask for it today.

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 we know your worthiness.
	My Lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter,
	We will aboard tonight. 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 chased 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 suppressed and killed.
	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 conspired
	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 coined me into gold
	Wouldst thou have practised 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-
	All other devils that suggest by treasons
	Do botch and bungle up damnation
	With patches, colours, and with forms, being fetched
	From glist'ring semblances of piety;
	But he that tempered 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 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."
	O, how hast thou with jealousy infected
	The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful?
	Why, so didst thou. Seem they grave and learnd?
	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,
	Garnished and decked in modest complement,
	Not working with the eye without the ear,
	And but in purgd judgement trusting neither?
	Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem;
	And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,
	To make the full-fraught man and best endowed
	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 discovered,
	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 thankd 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 damnd enterprise.
	My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.

King Henry	God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence.
	You have conspired against our royal person,
	Joined with an enemy proclaimed, 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 smoothd 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.
													[Flourish. Exeunt.
