And tender preservation of our person,

Would have him punish'd. Now to our French

causes:

Who are the late commissioners ?

Cam. I one, my lord ; ~

Your highness bade me ask for it to-day.

Scroop. So did you me, my liege.

Grey. And I, 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-

men?

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 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.
See you, my princes, and my noble peers,

These English monsters! My Lord 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,-
Wouldst 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.
If that same demon, 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.—
Their faults are open:

Arrest them to the answer of the law;
And Heav'n 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 Heav'n 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 Heaven be thanked for prevention! Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, Beseeching Heaven, 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 damned enterprise :

My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
K. Hen. You have conspir'd against our royal per-

son;

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 slaughter,
His princes and his peers to servitude,
His subjects to oppression and contempt,
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. Go therefore hence,
Poor miserable wretches, to your death;
The taste whereof, Heav'n, of his mercy, give
You patience to endure; and true repentance
Of all your dear offences!-Bear them hence.-
[Exeunt GREY, SCROOP, and CAMBRIDGE, guarded.
Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
Then, forth, dear countrymen,

Putting it straight in expedition;

Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance;

No King of England, if not King of France.

[Flourish.-Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Before the Boar's Head Tavern, in Eastcheap.

Enter NYM, PISTOL, MRS. QUICKLY, BARDOLPH, and Boy, from the Tavern.

Quick. 'Pr'ythee, honey-sweet hsuband, let me bring thee to Staines.

D

--

Pist. No; for my manly heart doth yern.Bardolph, be blithe;-Nym, rouse thy vaunting

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 Ar thur'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. How now, Sir John? quoth I: what, man! be of good cheer. So 'a cried out,-Heaven, heaven, heaven, three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him, 'a should not think of heaven; 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. They say, he cried out of sack.

Quick. Ay, that 'a did.

Bard. And of women.

Quick. Nay, that 'a did not.

Boy. Yes, that 'a did; and said, they were devils incarnate.

Quick. 'A could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he never lik’d.

Boy. 'A said once, the devil would have him about

women.

Quick. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women: but then he was rheumatic, and talked of the whore of Babylon.

Boy. Do you not remember 'a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose; and 'a said, it was a black soul burning in hell-fire?

Bard. Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire: that's all the riches I got in his service.

Nym. Shall we shogg off? The king will be gone from Southampton.

Pist. Come, let's away.- My love, give me thy lips.

Look to my chattels, and my moveables:

Go, clear thy crystals.-Yoke-fellows in arms,
Let us to France! like horse-leeches, my boys,
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!

Boy. And that is but unwholesome food, they say.
Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march.

Bard, Farewell, hostess.

[Kisses her, Nym. I cannot kiss; that's the humour of it; but adieu.

Pist. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee command.

Quick. Farewell; adieu.

[Exeunt NYM, BARDOLPH, and PISTOL,-and MRS. QUICKLY, into the Tavern.

Boy. As young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. For Bardolph, he is white-livered, and red-faced; by the means whereof, 'a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue, and a quiet sword; by the means whereof, 'a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath heard, that men of few words are the best men; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest 'a should be thought a coward; but his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds; for 'a never broke any man's head but his own; and that was against a post, when he was drunk. They will steal any thing, and call it-purchase. They would have me as familiar with men's pockets, as their gloves or their handkerchiefs; which makes