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Yet it shall come for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to say; but let it go :
The sun is in the heaven ; and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gauds,
To give me audience : if the midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one into the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a churchyard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs ;
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,
Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy-thick,
(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes ;)
Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words :
Then, in despite of brooded-watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts.
But, ah ! I will not: yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well.
Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act,
By heaven, I'd do't.
Do not I know thou would'st? Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine
yon young boy. I'll tell thee what, my friend,
He is a very serpent in my way;
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me. Dost thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper.
And I'll keep him so,
That he shall not offend your majesty.
Hub. My lord ?
He shall not live.
I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee;
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee:
King Henry V.
Act II., SCENE II.—Southampton. A council-chamber.
Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORELAND.
Bed. 'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these traitors.
Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by.
West. How smooth and even they do bear themselves !
As if allegiance in their bosoms sat,
Crowned with faith and constant loyalty.
Bed. The king hath note of all that they intend,
By interception which they dream not of.
Exe. 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 !
Enter King HENRY, CAMBRIDGE, SCROOP, GREY, and
K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.
My Lord of Cambridge, 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.
K. Hen. I doubt not that; since we are well persuaded
We carry not a heart with us from hence
That grows not in a fair concent with ours,
Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish
Success and conquest to attend on us.
Cam. 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.
K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of thankfulness ;
And shall forget the office of our hand,
Sooner than quittance of desert and merit
According to their weight and worthiness.
Scroop. So service shall with steeléd sinews toil,
And labour shall refresh itself with hope,
To do your grace incessant services.
K. Hen. We judge no less.—Uncle of Exeter,
Enlarge the man committed yesterday,
That railed 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 punished, sovereign, lest example
Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.
K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful.
Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish too.
You show great mercy, if you give him life
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 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 ?
Cam. I one, my
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, gentlemen ?
What see you 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 your blood
Out of appearance?
I do confess my fault;
And do submit me to your highness' mercy.
} To which we all appeal.
K. Hen. 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
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 glistering 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 has 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 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 ;
Garnished and decked in modest complement;
Not working with the eye without the ear,
And but in purgéd judgment 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 :-