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 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 coin'd 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 treasons,
Do botch and hungle up dainnation

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 should'st do

treason,

Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor,
If that same daemon, 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 boulted, ditst shou 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!

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 Masharu.

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, aud 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,

1

Prevented from a damned enterprize:
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 proclaim'd, and from his

coffers

Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death; Wherein you would have sold your King to

1

slaughter,
His Princes and his Peers to servitude,
His subjects to oppression and conteinpt,
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.

SCENЕ III.

London. Mrs. Quickly's House in Eastcheap.

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 yern. Bardolph, be blith; - Nym, rouse thy vaunt

ing veins;

Boy, bristle thy courage up: for Falstaff he is dead,

And we must yern therefore.

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

Quick. Nay, sure, he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went away, an it had been any christom child; 'a parted even just between twelve and one, e'en at turning o'the tide for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. How now, sir John? quoth I: what, man! be of good cheer. So 'a cried out - God, God, God! three or four times: now I, to comfort him, bid him, a should not think of God; I hoped, there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet: So, 'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed, and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.

Nym.