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 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.

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 thankéd 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 damnéd enterprise;

My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.

K. Hen. God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence.

You have conspired against our royal person,

Joined with an enemy proclaimed, from 's 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:
To taste whereof, God of his mercy give
You patience to endure, and true repentance
Of all your dear offences! Bear them hence.

Much Ado About Nothing.
ACT III., SCENE III.-A Street.

Enter DOGBERRY and VERGES, with the Watch.

Dogb. Are you good men and true?

Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul.

Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince's watch.

Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. Dogb. First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable?

1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; for they can write and read.

Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. God hath blessed you with a good name: to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature.

2 Watch. Both which, master constable,Dogb. You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your charge :-you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince's name.

2 Watch. How, if a' will not stand?

Dogb. Why, then take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave.

Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the prince's subjects.

Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the prince's subjects.—You shall also make no noise in the streets; for, for the watch to babble and talk is most tolerable and not to be endured.

2 Watch. We will rather sleep than talk; we know what belongs to a watch.

Dogb. Why you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only, have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you are to call at all the alehouses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. 2 Watch. How, if they will not?

Dogb. Why, then let them alone till they are sober; if they make you not then the better answer, you may say, they are not the men you took them for.

2 Watch. Well, sir.

Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and, for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty.

2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him?

Dogb. Truly, by your office you may; but, I think, they that touch pitch will be defiled. The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him show himself what he is, and steal out of your company.

Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, partner. Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.

Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse, and bid her still it.

2 Watch. How, if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us? Dogb. Why, then depart in peace, and let the child wake her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when he bleats.

Verg. 'T is very true.

Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, constable, are to present the prince's own person; if you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him.

Verg. Nay, by 'r lady, that, I think, a' cannot.

Dogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any man that knows the statues, he may stay him: marry, not without the prince be willing; for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. Verg. By 'r lady, I think it be so. Dogb. Ha, ah-ha? Well, masters, good any matter of weight chances, call up me. counsels and your own, and good night.

night: an there be

Keep your fellows' Come, neighbour.

2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed.

Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night. Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech you.

As You Like It.

ACT II., SCENE V. &c.-The Forest of Arden.
Enter DUKE senior, AMIENS, and LORDS.

Duke. I think he be transformed into a beast,
For I can no where find him like a man.

1st Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

Duke. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres:-
Go, seek him; tell him I would speak with him.
1st Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach.

Enter JAQUES.

Duke. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
That your poor friends must woo your company?
What! you look merrily!

Jaques. A fool, a fool !—I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool-a miserable world!—

As I do live by food, I met a fool,

Who laid him down, and basked him in the sun,
And railed on lady Fortune in good terms,

In good set terms—and yet a motley fool.

"Good-morrow, fool," quoth I: "No, sir," quoth he,

"Call me not fool, till Heaven hath sent me fortune:"
And then he drew a dial from his poke,

And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, "It is ten o'clock:

Thus may we see," quoth he, "how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine;

And after one hour more, 'twill be eleven ;

And so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot, and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale." When I did hear

The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative;
And I did laugh, sans intermission,
An hour by his dial.—Oh, noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

(All retire to the table)

Enter ORLANDO with his sword drawn.

Orlan. Forbear, and eat no more!

Jaques. Why, I have eat none yet.

Orlan. Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.

Jaques. Of what kind should this cock come of?

Duke. (coming forward) Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy distress?

Or else a rude despiser of good manners,

That in civility thou seem'st so empty?

Orlan. You touched my vein at first; the thorny point

Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show

Of smooth civility; yet am I inland bred,

And know some nurture: but forbear, I say!

He dies that touches any of this fruit,

Till I and my affairs are answered.

Duke. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force,

More than your force move us to gentleness.

Orlan. I almost die for food, and let me have it.

Duke. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.

Orlan. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you;

I thought that all things had been savage here;

And therefore put I on the countenance

Of stern commandment: but whate'er you are,
That in this desert inaccessible,

Under the shade of melancholy boughs,

Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time :
If ever you have looked on better days:

If ever been where bells have knolled to church;
If ever sat at any good man's feast;