Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.
Nym. I shall have

my

noble ? Pis. In cash most justly paid. Nym. Well then, that 's the humor of it.

Re-enter MRS. QUICKLY. Mrs. Quick. As ever you came of women, come in quickly to sir John. Ah, poor heart! he is so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him.

Nym. The king hath run bad humors on the knight; that's the even of it.

Pis. Nym, thou hast spoke the right; His heart is fracted, and corroborate.

Nym. The king is a good king; but it must be as it may :

he passes some humors and careers. Pis. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins we will live.

[Exeunt.

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 them.
As if allegiance in their bošoms 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 cloy'd and graced with princely

favors ;That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell His sovereign's life to death and treachery!

Trumpet sounds. Enter KING HENRY, SCROOP,

CAMBRIDGE, GREY, Lords, and Attendants. R. Hen. 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 1 assembled them? Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his

best. K. Hen. I doubt not that; since we are well per

suaded, We carry not a heart with us from hence, That grows not in a fair concent2 with ours;

a

Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish
Success and conquest to attend on us.

Cam. Never was monarch better fear'd 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. Even those, that were your father's ene

mies,
Have steep'd their galls in honey, and do serve you
With hearts create of duty and of zeal.
K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of thank-

fulness;
And shall forget the office of our hand,
Sooner than quittance 1 of desert and merit,
According to the weight and worthiness.

Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews toil ;
And labor 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 rail'd 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 punish'd, 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.
Grey. Sir, 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,1 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

causes :
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 :

What see you

Read them; and know, I know

your

worthiness. My lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter, We will aboard to-night.-Why, how now, gentle

men ?
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 chased 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 1 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 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,

a