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K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful.
Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish too.
Grey. Sir, you show great mercy, if you give him
After the taste of much correction.
K. Hen. 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 di
gested, 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 2 commissioners ?
Cam. I 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 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, gentle-
in those papers,
So much complexion ? look ye, how they change!
Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read you
there, That hath so cowarded and chased
blood Out of appearance ? Cam.
I do confess
fault; And do submit me to your highness' mercy.
Grey. Scroop. To which we all appeal.
K. Hen. The mercy, that was quick 1 in us but
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
These English monsters! My lord of Cambridge
You know, how apt our love was, to accord
To furnish him with all appertinents
Belonging to his honor; 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 coin'd 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 1 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, colors, and with forms, being fetch'd
From glistering semblances of piety:
But he, that temper'd thee, 2 bade thee stand up,