[After an alarum enter Harry, Suffolk, Huntington,
Sir John, bringing forth Acton, Beverley, and Murley
prisoners.]
KING.
Bring in those traitors, whose aspiring minds
Thought to have triumpht in our overthrow.
But now ye see, base villains, what success
Attends ill actions wrongfully attempted.
Sir Roger Acton, thou retainst the name
Of knight, and shouldst be more discreetly tempered,
Than join with peasants: gentry is divine,
But thou hast made it more than popular.
ACTON.
Pardon, my Lord; my conscience urged me to it.
KING.
Thy conscience? then thy conscience is corrupt,
For in thy conscience thou art bound to us,
And in thy conscience thou shouldst love thy country;
Else what's the difference twixt a Christian
And the uncivil manners of the Turk?
BEVERLEY.
We meant no hurt unto your majesty,
But reformation of Religion.
KING.
Reform Religion? was it that ye sought?
I pray who gave you that authority?
Belike, then, we do hold the scepter up
And sit within the throne but for a cipher.
Time was, good subjects would make known their grief
And pray amendment, not enforce the same,
Unless their King were tyrant, which I hope
You cannot justly say that Harry is.
What is that other?
SUFFOLK.
A malt-man, my Lord,
And dwelling in Dunstable as he says.
KING.
Sirra, what made you leave your barley broth,
To come in armour thus against your King?
MURLEY.
Fie, paltry, paltry; to and fro, in and out upon occasion;
what a world's this! Knight-hood (my liege) twas
knight-hood brought me hither. They told me I had
wealth enough to make my wife a lady.
KING.
And so you brought those horses which we saw,
Trapped all in costly furniture, and meant
To wear these spurs when you were knighted once?
MURLEY.
In and out upon occasion, I did.
KING.
In and out upon occasion, therefore,
You shall be handed, and in the stead of wearing
These spurs upon your heels, about your neck
They shall bewray your folly to the world.
SIR JOHN.
In and out upon occasion, that goes hard.
MURLEY.
Fie, paltry, paltry, to and fro; good my liege, a
pardon. I am sorry for my fault.
KING.
That comes too late: but tell me, went there none
Beside sir Roger Acton, upon whom
You did depend to be your governour?
MURLEY.
None, none, my Lord, but sir John Old-castle.
KING.
Bears he part in this conspiracy?
[Enter Bishop.]
ACTON.
We looked, my Lord, that he would meet us here.
KING.
But did he promise you that he would come?
ACTON.
Such letters we received forth of Kent.
BISHOP.
Where is my Lord the King?--Health to your grace.
Examining, my Lord, some of these caitive rebels,
It is a general voice amongst them all,
That they had never come unto this place,
But to have met their valiant general,
The good Lord Cobham, as they title him:
Whereby, my Lord, your grace may now perceive,
His treason is apparent, which before
He sought to colour by his flattery.
KING.
Now, by my royalty, I would have sworn
But for his conscience, which I bear withal,
There had not lived a more true hearted subject.
BISHOP.
It is but counterfeit, my gracious lord,
And therefore, may it please your majesty
To set your hand unto this precept here,
By which we'll cause him forthwith to appear,
And answer this by order of the law.
KING.
Bishop, not only that, but take commission
To search, attach, imprison, and condemn
This most notorious traitor as you please.
BISHOP.
It shall be done, my Lord, without delay.--
So now I hold, Lord Cobham, in my hand,
That which shall finish thy disdained life.
KING.
I think the iron age begins but now,
(Which learned poets have so often taught)
Wherein there is no credit to be given,
To either words, or looks, or solemn oaths.
For if there were, how often hath he sworn,
How gently tuned the music of his tongue,
And with what amiable face beheld he me,
When all, God knows, was but hypocricy.
[Enter Cobham.]
COBHAM.
Long life and prosperous reign unto my lord.
KING.
Ah, villain, canst thou wish prosperity,
Whose heart includeth naught but treachery?
I do arrest thee here my self, false knight,
Of treason capital against the state.
COBHAM.
Of treason, mighty prince? your grace mistakes.
I hope it is but in the way of mirth.
KING.
Thy neck shall feel it is in earnest shortly.
Darst thou intrude into our presence, knowing
How heinously thou hast offended us?
But this is thy accustomed deceit;
Now thou perceivest thy purpose is in vain,
With some excuse or other thou wilt come,
To clear thy self of this rebellion.
COBHAM.
Rebellion, good my Lord? I know of none.
KING.
If you deny it, here is evidence.
See you these men? you never counseled,
Nor offered them assistance in their wars?
COBHAM.
Speak, sirs. Not one but all; I crave no favour.
Have ever I been conversant with you,
Or written letters to encourage you,
Or kindled but the least or smallest part
Of this your late unnatural rebellion?
Speak, for I dare the uttermost you can.
MURLEY.
In and out upon occasion, I know you not.
KING.
No? didst not say that sir John Old-castle
Was one with whom you purposed to have met?
MURLEY.
True, I did say so, but in what respect?
Because I heard it was reported so.
KING.
Was there no other argument but that?
ACTON.
To clear my conscience ere I die, my lord,
I must confess, we have no other ground
But only Rumor, to accuse this lord,
Which now I see was merely fabulous.
KING.
The more pernitious you to taint him then,
Whom you knew not was faulty, yea or no.
COBHAM.
Let this, my Lord, which I present your grace,
Speak for my loyalty: read these articles,
And then give sentence of my life or death.
KING.
Earl Cambridge, Scroop, and Gray corrupted
With bribes from Charles of France, either to win
My Crown from me, or secretly contrive
My death by treason? Is this possible?
COBHAM.
There is the platform, and their hands, my lord,
Each severally subscribed to the same.
KING.
Oh never heard of, base ingratitude!
Even those I hug within my bosom most
Are readiest evermore to sting my heart.
Pardon me, Cobham, I have done thee wrong;
Hereafter I will live to make amends.
Is, then, their time of meeting no near hand?
We'll meet with them, but little for their ease,
If God permit. Go, take these rebels hence;
Let them have martial law: but as for thee,
Friend to thy king and country, still be free.
[Exeunt.]
MURLEY.
Be it more or less, what a world is this?
Would I had continued still of the order of knaves,
And never sought knighthood, since it costs so dear.
Sir Roger, I may thank you for all.
ACTON.
Now tis too late to have it remedied,
I prithee, Murley, do not urge me with it.
HUNTINGTON.
Will you away, and make no more to do?
MURLEY.
Fie, paltry, paltry! to and fro, as occasion serves;
If you be so hasty, take my place.
HUNTINGTON.
No, good sir knight, you shall begin in your hand.
MURLEY.
I could be glad to give my betters place.
[Exeunt.]
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