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Original Text |
Modern Text |
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Windsor castle.
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Windsor castle.
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Flourish. Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE , DUKE OF YORK , with other Lords, and Attendants
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Flourish. Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE , DUKE OF YORK , with other Lords, and Attendants
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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.
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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.
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Enter NORTHUMBERLAND
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Enter NORTHUMBERLAND
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5 Welcome, my lord what is the news?
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Welcome, my lord what is the news?
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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
10 At large discoursed in this paper here.
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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.
|
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HENRY BOLINGBROKE We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
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HENRY BOLINGBROKE We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
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Enter LORD FITZWATER
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Enter LORD FITZWATER
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LORD FITZWATER My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London
The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely,
15 Two of the dangerous consorted traitors
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
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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
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
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HENRY BOLINGBROKE Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
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HENRY BOLINGBROKE Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
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Enter HENRY PERCY , and the BISHOP OF CARLISLE
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Enter HENRY PERCY , and the BISHOP OF CARLISLE
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HENRY PERCY The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,
20 With clog of conscience and sour melancholy
Hath yielded up his body to the grave;
But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
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HENRY PERCY The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,
With clog of conscience and sour melancholy
Hath yielded up his body to the grave;
But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
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HENRY BOLINGBROKE Carlisle, this is your doom:
25 Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
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.
|
HENRY BOLINGBROKE Carlisle, this is your doom:
Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
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.
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Enter EXTON , with persons bearing a coffin
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Enter EXTON , with persons bearing a coffin
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EXTON 30 Great king, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
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EXTON Great king, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
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HENRY BOLINGBROKE Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought
35 A deed of slander with thy fatal hand
Upon my head and all this famous land.
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HENRY BOLINGBROKE Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought
A deed of slander with thy fatal hand
Upon my head and all this famous land.
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EXTON From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.
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EXTON From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.
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HENRY BOLINGBROKE They love not poison that do poison need,
Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead,
40 I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
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.
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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.
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.
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Exeunt EXTON and his men
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Exeunt EXTON and his men
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45 Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe,
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,
50 To wash this blood off from my guilty hand:
March sadly after; grace my mournings here;
In weeping after this untimely bier.
|
Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe,
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:
March sadly after; grace my mournings here;
In weeping after this untimely bier.
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Exeunt
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Exeunt
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Original Text |
Modern Text |
|
Windsor castle.
|
Windsor castle.
|
|
Flourish. Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE , DUKE OF YORK , with other Lords, and Attendants
|
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.
|
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
|
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND
|
|
5 Welcome, my lord what is the news?
|
Welcome, my lord what is the news?
|
|
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
10 At large discoursed in this paper here.
|
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.
|
|
HENRY BOLINGBROKE We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
|
HENRY BOLINGBROKE We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
|
|
Enter LORD FITZWATER
|
Enter LORD FITZWATER
|
|
LORD FITZWATER My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London
The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely,
15 Two of the dangerous consorted traitors
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
|
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
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
|
|
HENRY BOLINGBROKE Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;
Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
|
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
|
Enter HENRY PERCY , and the BISHOP OF CARLISLE
|
|
HENRY PERCY The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,
20 With clog of conscience and sour melancholy
Hath yielded up his body to the grave;
But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
|
HENRY PERCY The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,
With clog of conscience and sour melancholy
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:
25 Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
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.
|
HENRY BOLINGBROKE Carlisle, this is your doom:
Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
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
|
Enter EXTON , with persons bearing a coffin
|
|
EXTON 30 Great king, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
|
EXTON Great king, within this coffin I present
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
35 A deed of slander with thy fatal hand
Upon my head and all this famous land.
|
HENRY BOLINGBROKE Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought
A deed of slander with thy fatal hand
Upon my head and all this famous land.
|
|
EXTON From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.
|
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,
40 I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
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.
|
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.
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.
|
|
Exeunt EXTON and his men
|
Exeunt EXTON and his men
|
|
45 Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe,
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,
50 To wash this blood off from my guilty hand:
March sadly after; grace my mournings here;
In weeping after this untimely bier.
|
Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe,
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:
March sadly after; grace my mournings here;
In weeping after this untimely bier.
|
|
Exeunt
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Exeunt
|
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