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’Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these traitors.
By God, he’s brave to trust these traitors.
They shall be apprehended by and by.
They will be caught soon.
How smooth and even they do bear themselves! As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, Crowned with faith and constant loyalty.
They seem so calm and composed! As if loyalty sat in their hearts, Surrounded by faith and unwavering loyalty.
The king hath note of all that they intend, By interception which they dream not of.
The king knows everything they’re planning, Through the secret ways they don’t even know about.
Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath dull’d and cloy’d with gracious favours, That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell His sovereign’s life to death and treachery.
No, but the man who shared his bed, Whom he has overfed with his kindness, That he would, for money from another country, sell His king’s life to death and betrayal.
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 assembled them?
Now the wind is in our favor, and we will board. My Lord of Cambridge, and my good Lord of Masham, And you, my noble knight, share your thoughts with me: Don’t you think the strength we carry with us Will cut through the force of France, Doing the job and fulfilling the purpose For which we’ve gathered these men here?
No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best.
No doubt, my liege, if every man does his best.
I doubt not that; since we are well persuaded We carry not a heart with us from hence That grows not in a fair consent with ours, Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish Success and conquest to attend on us.
I have no doubt about that; because we’re confident We carry no one with us who doesn’t agree with us, And we leave behind no one who doesn’t wish Success and victory to follow us.
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.
Never was a monarch more feared and loved Than you, your majesty: I don’t think there’s a subject Who suffers from sorrow or discomfort Under the kind rule of your government.
True: those that were your father’s enemies Have steep’d their galls in honey and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal.
True: those who were your father’s enemies Have soaked their bitterness in sweetness and now serve you With hearts full of duty and devotion.
We therefore have great cause of thankfulness; And shall forget the office of our hand, Sooner than quittance of desert and merit According to the weight and worthiness.
We have many reasons to be grateful; And we will forget any favor we’ve done, Sooner than forget the reward of good service and merit Based on the weight and worth of it.
So service shall with steeled sinews toil, And labour shall refresh itself with hope, To do your grace incessant services.
So service will work with strong effort, And hard work will find rest in hope, To do your grace continuous service.
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.
We don’t think any less. Uncle of Exeter, Release the man who was imprisoned yesterday, Who spoke against me: we believe it was too much wine that made him do it; And because of his good advice, we forgive him.
That’s mercy, but too much security: Let him be punish’d, sovereign, lest example Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.
That’s mercy, but it’s too much leniency: Let him be punished, your majesty, or else the example might encourage more people like him.
O, let us yet be merciful.
Oh, let us still be merciful.
So may your highness, and yet punish too.
So you can, your majesty, and still punish him.
Sir, You show great mercy, if you give him life, After the taste of much correction.
Sir, You show great mercy if you let him live, after giving him plenty of punishment.
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 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?
Alas, your too much love and concern for me are heavy prayers against this poor wretch! If small faults, caused by being out of sorts, are not overlooked, how will we be able to judge When serious crimes, that have been committed, eaten up, and digested, appear before us? We will still release that man, even though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, out of their deep care and protection of my life, want him punished. And now to our French affairs: Who were the recent commissioners?
I one, my lord: Your highness bade me ask for it to-day.
I, my lord: Your majesty told me to ask for them today.
So did you me, my liege.
So did you to me, my liege.
And I, my royal sovereign.
And I, my royal sovereign.
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 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?
Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, here is yours; There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham; and, Sir Knight, Grey of Northumberland, this is yours: Read them; and know that I know your worth. My Lord of Westmoreland, and Uncle Exeter, We will board tonight. Why, what’s going on, gentlemen? What do you see in these papers that has made you lose so much color? Look, see how they’re changing! Their faces are turning pale. What have you read there that has scared you and drained the color from your faces?
I do confess my fault; And do submit me to your highness’ mercy.
I admit my fault; And I submit to your majesty’s mercy.
To which we all appeal.
We all appeal to your mercy.
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; For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, As dogs upon their masters, worrying you. 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 honour; and this man Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspired, And sworn unto the practises 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 and 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 fetch’d From glistering semblances of piety; But he that temper’d 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 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.’ 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, Garnish’d and deck’d in modest complement, Not working with the eye without the ear, And but in purged 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; And God acquit them of their practises!
The mercy that was quick in us but recently, By your own advice, has been suppressed and killed: For shame, you must not dare to speak of mercy; For your own reasons, keep it to yourselves, Like dogs worrying their masters. Look here, my princes, and my noble peers, These English traitors! My Lord of Cambridge here, You know how willing our friendship was To give him all the honors he deserved; And this man Has, for a few gold coins, conspired lightly, And sworn to join the plans of France, To kill us here in Hampton: and this knight, No less bound to us by favor than Cambridge, Has sworn the same. But, oh, What should I say to you, Lord Scroop? You cruel, Ungrateful, savage, and inhuman creature! You who held the key to all my secrets, Who knew the very depths of my soul, Who almost could have turned me into gold, Would you have used me for your own benefit? Could foreign payment Make you betray me in such a way That it would harm even my smallest actions? It’s so strange, That although the truth is clear, My eyes barely believe it. Treason and murder always go together, Like two devils bound to each other’s cause, Working so openly that no one could miss them: But you, against all reason, brought in Wonder to accompany treason and murder: And whatever devil it was That worked on you so foolishly Will have earned a special place in hell: All other devils that suggest treason Mix their doom with tricks, Pretending to be pious; But the one who led you told you to stand up, Gave you no reason to commit treason, Except to give you the title of traitor. If that demon who deceived you Walked across the world, He could return to hell and boast, ’I never met an easier soul to corrupt than that Englishman.’ Oh, how you’ve tainted The sweetness of trust! You acted dutiful? Yes, so did you: did you seem wise and serious? Yes, so did you: were you of noble birth? Yes, so did you: did you seem religious? Yes, so did you: or did you avoid excess, Free from passion, laughter, or anger, Steady in spirit, not swaying with your emotions, Polite and well-mannered, Not acting without thinking, And trusting only in clear judgment? Such and so perfectly crafted did you seem: And now your fall leaves a stain, Marking even the most noble and honorable With some suspicion. I will weep for you; For your betrayal, it seems, is like The fall of mankind. Their faults are obvious: Let the law arrest them; And may God absolve them of their deeds!
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.
I arrest you for high treason, by the name of Richard Earl of Cambridge. I arrest you for high treason, by the name of Henry Lord Scroop of Masham. I arrest you for high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland.
Our purposes God 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.
God has justly revealed our plans; And I regret my fault more than my death; I beg your highness to forgive me, Though my body must pay the price.
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 thanked for prevention; Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, Beseeching God and you to pardon me.
For me, the gold of France did not tempt me; Although I used it as a reason To carry out my plan more quickly: But thanks be to God for stopping me; And I will gladly rejoice in my suffering, Asking God and you to pardon me.
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.
Never did a loyal subject rejoice more At the discovery of dangerous treason Than I do now, for my own salvation. Prevented from a wicked plot: Pardon my mistake, but not my body, my sovereign.
God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence. You have conspired against our royal person, Join’d with an enemy proclaim’d and from his 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: The taste whereof, God of his mercy give You patience to endure, and true repentance Of all your dear offences! Bear them hence.
May God pardon you in his mercy! Hear your judgment. You have conspired against our royal person, Joined with a declared enemy and received The gold that was to pay for our deaths; Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, His princes and peers to servitude, His subjects to oppression and contempt, And his entire kingdom to ruin. As for our person, we seek no revenge; But we must protect our kingdom’s safety, Whose destruction you sought, by the laws We deliver you to justice. Therefore, go You miserable wretches, to your deaths: May God, in his mercy, give You patience to endure, and true repentance For all your grave offenses! Take them away.
Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof Shall be to you, as us, like glorious. We doubt not of a fair and lucky war, Since God so graciously hath brought to light This dangerous treason lurking in our way To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now But every rub is smoothed on our way. Then forth, dear countrymen: let us deliver Our puissance into the hand of God, Putting it straight in expedition. Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance: No king of England, if not king of France.
Now, lords, for France; the mission ahead Will be as glorious for you as it is for us. We have no doubt of a fair and fortunate war, Since God has so kindly revealed This dangerous betrayal in our path That seeks to stop us from starting. We have no doubt now That every obstacle will be cleared from our way. So let’s go, dear countrymen: let’s place Our power in the hands of God, And set it in motion immediately. Cheerfully to sea; the signs of war are here: No king of England, unless he’s also king of France.