GREY.
And I, my royal sovereign.

KING HENRY.
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 have so cowarded and chas'd your blood
Out of appearance?

CAMBRIDGE.
I do confess my fault,
And do submit me to your Highness' mercy.

GREY, SCROOP.
To which we all appeal.

KING HENRY.
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.