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| Windsor castle. |
| [Flourish. Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE, DUKE OF YORK, | ||
| with other Lords, and Attendants] |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear | ||
| Is that the rebels have consumed with fire | |||
| Our town of Cicester in Gloucestershire; | |||
| But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not. | |||
| [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND] | |||
| Welcome, my lord what is the news? | 5 |
| NORTHUMBERLAND | First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. | ||
| The next news is, I have to London sent | |||
| The heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent: | |||
| The manner of their taking may appear | |||
| At large discoursed in this paper here. | 10 |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; | ||
| And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. | |||
| [Enter LORD FITZWATER] |
| LORD FITZWATER | My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London | ||
| The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely, | |||
| Two of the dangerous consorted traitors | 15 | ||
| That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; | ||
| Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. | |||
| [Enter HENRY PERCY, and the BISHOP OF CARLISLE] |
| HENRY PERCY | The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, | ||
| With clog of conscience and sour melancholy | 20 | ||
| Hath yielded up his body to the grave; | |||
| But here is Carlisle living, to abide | |||
| Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Carlisle, this is your doom: | ||
| Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, | 25 | ||
| More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; | |||
| So as thou livest in peace, die free from strife: | |||
| For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, | |||
| High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. | |||
| [Enter EXTON, with persons bearing a coffin] |
| EXTON | Great king, within this coffin I present | 30 | |
| Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies | |||
| The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, | |||
| Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought | ||
| A deed of slander with thy fatal hand | 35 | ||
| Upon my head and all this famous land. |
| EXTON | From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | They love not poison that do poison need, | ||
| Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, | |||
| I hate the murderer, love him murdered. | 40 | ||
| The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, | |||
| But neither my good word nor princely favour: | |||
| With Cain go wander through shades of night, | |||
| And never show thy head by day nor light. | |||
| Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, | 45 | ||
| That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow: | |||
| Come, mourn with me for that I do lament, | |||
| And put on sullen black incontinent: | |||
| I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, | |||
| To wash this blood off from my guilty hand: | 50 | ||
| March sadly after; grace my mournings here; | |||
| In weeping after this untimely bier. | |||
| [Exeunt] |
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