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Windsor castle.
[Flourish. Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE, DUKE OF YORK, with other Lords, and
Attendants]
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
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Kind uncle York,| the lat|est news | we hear,
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Is that | the reb|els have | consumed | with fire
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Our town | of Ci|cester | in Glouce|stershire,
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But wheth|er they | be tane | or slain,| we hear*
not.
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Welcome | my lord:| what is | the news?
[Enter NORTHUMBERLAND]
NORTHUMBERLAND
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First to || thy sac|red state,| wish^I | all*
hap|piness:
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The next news is,| I have | to Lon|don sent
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The heads | of Ox|ford, Sal|isbury, Blunt,| and
Kent:
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The man|ner of | their tak|ing may | appear
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At large | discours|ed in | this pap|er here.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
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We thank | thee gent|le Per|cy for | thy pains,
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And to | thy worth | will add | right^worth|y
gains.
[Enter LORD FITZWATER]
LORD FITZWATER
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My lord,| I have from | Oxford | sent to | London,
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The heads | of Brocas,| and Sir | Bennet | Seely,
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Two of the | dange|rous con|sorted | traitors,
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That sought | at Ox|ford, thy / dire ov|erthrow.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
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Thy pains | Fitzwat/er shall | not be | forgot,
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Right nob/le is | thy mer|it, well | I wot.
[Enter HENRY PERCY, and the BISHOP OF CARLISLE]
HENRY PERCY
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The grand | conspir|ator, Ab|bot of West|minster,
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With clog | of con|science, and sour |
melan|choly, ??
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Hath yield|ed up | his bo|dy to | the grave:
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But here | is Car|lisle,^liv|ing to | abide
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Thy king|ly doom,| and sent|ence of | his pride.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
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Carlisle, this | is your doom:|
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Choose^out | some* sec|ret place,| some*
reve|rend room,
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More than | thou hast,| and with | it joy | thy
life:
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So as thou | livst in | peace, die free | from
strife:
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For though | mine en|emy,| thou hast / ever been,
T T
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High sparks of hon|or in | thee have | I seen.
[Enter EXTON, with persons bearing a coffin]
EXTON
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Great^king,| within | this cof|fin I | present
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Thy bur|ied fear.| Herein | all breath|less lies
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The might|iest of | thy great|est en|emies
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Richard of | Bordeaux, by | me hith|er brought.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
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Exton,| I thank | thee not,| for thou | hast
wrought
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A deed | of slaught|er, with | thy fat|al hand,
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Upon | my head,| and all | this fam|ous land.
EXTON
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From your / own mouth | my lord,| did I | this
deed.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
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They love | not pois|on, that | do pois|on need,
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Nor do | I thee:| though^I | did wish | him dead,
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I hate | the murd|erer,| love him | murdered.
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The guilt | of con|science take | thou for | thy lab|or,
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But neith|er my | good word,| nor prince|ly fav|or.
(hex with prev)
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With Cain go | wander | through shades of
night, ??
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And nev|er show | thy head | by day,| nor light.
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Lords, I | protest | my soul | is full | of woe,
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That blood | should sprink|le me,| to make | me
grow.
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Come^mourn | with me,| for that | I do | lament,
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And put | on sul|len black | incont|inent:
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I'll make | a voy|age to | the Ho|ly Land,
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To wash | this blood | off from | my guil|ty
hand.
T Tx T
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March sadly^aft|er, grace | my mourn|ings here,
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In weep|ing aft|er this | untime|ly bier.
[Exeunt]