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Richard II

Act V, Scene 6

Windsor castle.
 
[Flourish. Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE, DUKE OF YORK, with other Lords, and Attendants]
 
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
        T   Tx     T         ,        ,         ,
      Kind uncle York,| the lat|est news | we hear,
       ,             ,        ,         ,            ,
      Is that | the reb|els have | consumed | with fire
            ,        ,     ,          ,         ,
      Our town | of Ci|cester | in Glouce|stershire,
           ,         ,         ,         ,       2       ,
      But wheth|er they | be tane | or slain,| we hear* not.
       ,             ,      ,             ,
      Welcome | my lord:| what is | the news?
 
[Enter NORTHUMBERLAND]
 
NORTHUMBERLAND
      <-  ,              ,        ,          ,        ,      ,
        First to || thy sac|red state,| wish I | all hap|piness:
       .    T    T   T       ,        ,        ,
      The next news is,| I have | to Lon|don sent
            ,         ,        ,   3  3     ,           ,
      The heads | of Ox|ford, Sa|lisbury, Blunt,| and Kent:
           ,       ,          ,       ,        ,
      The man|ner of | their tak|ing may | appear
           ,          ,       ,         ,       ,
      At large | discour|sed in | this pap|er here.
 
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
           ,           ,       ,      ,          ,
      We thank | thee gent|le Per|cy for | thy pains,
           ,         ,           ,           ,        ,
      And to | thy worth | will add | right^worth|y gains.
 
[Enter LORD FITZWATER]
 
LORD FITZWATER
           ,    ,     2        ,         ,        ,
      My lord,| I have from | Oxford | sent to | London,
            ,         ,      2     ,     ,        ,
      The heads | of Bro|cas, and Sir | Bennet | Seely,
       ,    2       ,      ,       ,         ,
      Two of the | dange|rous con|sorted | traitors,
              ,         ,               ,  ,      ,
      That sought | at Ox|ford, thy / dire ov|erthrow.
 
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
            ,       ,  ,              ,           ,
      Thy pains | Fitzwa/ter shall | not be | forgot,
        ,    ,               ,        ,       ,
      Right no/ble is | thy mer|it, well | I wot.
 
[Enter HENRY PERCY, and the BISHOP OF CARLISLE]
 
HENRY PERCY
            ,         ,    2     ,    2     ,   ,
      The grand | conspi|rator, Ab|bot of West|minster,
             ,        ,          2      ,     ,     ,
      With clog | of con|science, and sour | melan|choly,
             ,       ,        ,     ,         ,
      Hath yield|ed up | his bo|dy to | the grave:
            ,        ,    ,     ,              ,
      But here | is Car|lisle, liv/ing to | abide
            ,       ,         ,         ,         ,
      Thy king|ly doom,| and sent|ence of | his pride.
 
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
       T   T      T     T   T    T    oo
      Carlisle, this | is your doom:|
              ,           ,        ,            ,   2      ,
      Choose^out | some* sec|ret place,| some* rev|erend room,
        ,                ,          ,        ,          ,
      More than | thou hast,| and with | it joy | thy life:
       ,   2         ,          T     T    T            ,
      So as thou | livst in | peace, die free | from strife:
             ,          ,    ,       2     ,      ,
      For though | mine en|emy,| thou hast ev|er been,
        T     T    .  T      ,          ,        ,
      High sparks of hon|or in | thee have | I seen.
 
[Enter EXTON, with persons bearing a coffin]
 
EXTON
              ,        ,          ,      ,        ,
      Great^king,| within | this cof|fin I | present
           ,        ,         ,          ,          ,
      Thy bur|ied fear.| Herein | all breath|less lies
            ,     2   ,         ,       ,     ,
      The might|iest of | thy great|est en|emies
       ,     2      T   T     T       ,         ,
      Richard of | Bordeaux, by | me hith|er brought.
 
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
       ,          ,           ,          ,            ,
      Exton,| I thank | thee not,| for thou | hast wrought
          ,          ,          ,         ,       ,
      A deed | of slaught|er, with | thy fat|al hand,
        ,         ,         ,          ,        ,
      Upon | my head,| and all | this fam|ous land.
 
EXTON
                   ,    ,          ,        ,          ,
      From your / own mouth | my lord,| did I | this deed.
 
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
             ,         ,         ,        ,        ,
      They love | not pois|on, that | do pois|on need,
           ,       ,       ,             ,          ,
      Nor do | I thee:| though I | did wish | him dead,
          ,          ,    ,      ,          ,
      I hate | the murd|erer,| love him | murdered.
            ,         ,            ,      ,     2       ,
      The guilt | of con|science take | thou for thy | labor,
           ,      2     ,      ,            ,        ,
      But neith|er my good | word, nor | princely | favor.
        T    T   T    ,                  ,          ,
      With Cain go | wander | through shades | of night,
           ,       ,          ,        ,          ,
      And nev|er show | thy head | by day,| nor light.
        ,             ,         ,         ,        ,
      Lords, I | protest | my soul | is full | of woe,
             ,              ,        ,        ,         ,
      That blood | should sprin|kle me,| to make | me grow.
             ,           ,         ,       ,       ,
      Come^mourn | with me,| for that | I do | lament,
           ,        ,        ,        ,      ,
      And put | on sul|len black | incon|tinent:
             ,       ,       ,        ,      ,
      I'll make | a voy|age to | the Ho|ly Land,
           ,           ,      ,              ,       ,
      To wash | this blood | off from | my guil|ty hand.
        T     Tx   T        ,          ,          ,
      March sadly^aft|er, grace | my mourn|ings here,
          ,        ,       ,        ,       ,
      In weep|ing aft|er this | untime|ly bier.
 
[Exeunt]

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