King.
These letters, sent in haste from father Paul,
Are strange of tenour, and of dread import;
No less than of a treasonable design,
Hatching against our person and our throne.

Ex.
Good heav'ns preserve your majesty! by whom?

King.
I say not that; for God forbid the truth
Should not belye this honest friar's suspicions:
For here he tells me that my seeming friend,
The man I've worn the nearest to my heart,
Is false as hell, and seeks my crown and life.

Exe.
Means he the earl of Cambridge?

King.
Why, good uncle?
Is he the only one I have distinguish'd?

Exe.
No, my good liege, but that I've lately heard
Of his most frequent visits to the legate;
Who bears, I'm sure, your highness no good will,
Since last you taught him who was England's master.
Lord Cambridge has besides a strange deportment;
I cannot tell—but 'tis a man I like not.

King.
And yet you never hinted this before.

Exe.
Never, my liege; for heav'n forbid that ought
Of my loose fancy and mere wild conjecture
Should injure any man in your esteem:
I lightly hold my skill in physiognomy.

King.
If such be your remarks, I not, good uncle.
But give me too your thoughts of baron Scroop.

Exe.
My liege, I hold him for an honest man,
Discreet beyond his years, faithful and true,
And one that has your highness' good at heart.

King.
Nay there you're out; or else the writer lies,
He tells me here lord Scroop's the very devil;
And now is plotting with the earl of Cambridge
To take away my life; and set the crown
Upon the head of Mortimer.

Exe.
Is't possible!
How comes the friar by this information?

King.
It seems he hath a letter intercepted,
Sent by the earl of Cambridge to lord Scroop,
Written in mystick characters, the which
His rev'rence had the cunning to decypher,
And is himself in person on the way,
To bring the letter, and explain its meaning.

Exe.
The friar was ever held a godly man,
A learned and acute decypherer.
But the lord Scroop—well, so if it should prove,
I ne'er will judge again by fair appearances.
Will not your majesty arrest them strait,
Upon suspicion? 'twere, my liege, but prudent;
Who knows how ripe their dev'lish plot may be?

King.
Uncle, forewarn'd forearm'd. In very short
Th' informant will be here: let's wait 'till then.
If it no more should prove than vain suspicion,
I would not cast upon them such reproach;
Nor foil their friendship with the doubts of treason.

Exe.
Yet, the mean time, you will not sure give audience!

King.
Why not, good uncle, yes, I've promis'd Cambridge
To grant a private audience to old Falstaff.
He hath, I'm told, begun a reformation,
He shall not lack our countenance therein.

Exe.
Audience to Sir John Falstaff! private too!
My liege, there may be danger in the conference.

King.
Uncle, there may: and if I eat or drink,
Walk, sit, or stand, there may be danger too:
There's not the simplest action of our lives
But is attended with its share of danger.
I am not rash; but yet I hold it base,
In fear of death, to live a slave to life.
No, uncle, though perchance I die to night,

Let me go through the business of to day:
Death cannot reach us in a happier hour
Than that in which it finds us in our duty.
Fear not, my uncle, providence will shield us;
A guardian angel hovers round your king;
And will protect him from the ruffian's poniard.
And for the rest—be it your care, good uncle,
To keep an eye on these suspected lords.
With speed and silence let our guards be doubled;
And be my uncle York and brothers near us.

Exe.
My liege, I will. But yet I fear this Falstaff.
Hath your grace heard of other reformation
Than what the earl of Cambridge hath suggested?

King.
I have, good uncle, ev'n from father Paul;
Who said the knight was nigh to be well married.
Belike he needs our countenance herein.
If that our smiles will make our subjects good,
We'll not deny them to the meanest vassal.
Where are our brothers, and our uncle York? [Exeunt.

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