Bolingbroke.
Bring forth these men.— [To the Officers.
Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls
(Since presently your souls must part your bodies)
With too much urging your pernicious lives,
For 'twere no charity: yet, to wash your blood
From off my hands, here, in the view of men,
I will unfold some causes of your death.
You have misled a prince, a royal king,
A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,
By you unhappy'd and disfigur'd clean:
You have, in manner, with your sinful hours
Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him;
Broke the possession of a royal bed,
And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks
With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.
Myself—a prince, by fortune of my birth;
Near to the king in blood; and near in love,
'Till you did make him misinterpret me,—
Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries,
And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment:
Whilst you have fed upon my signories,
Dispark'd my parks, and fell'd my forest woods;
From my own windows torn my houshold coat,
Ras'd out my imprese* ^note, leaving me no sign,—
Save men's opinions, and my living blood,—
To shew the world I am a gentleman‡ ^note.

This, and much more, much more than twice all this,
Condemns you to the death:—See them deliver'd over
To execution and the hand of death.

Bus.
More welcome is the stroke of death to me,
Than Bolingbroke to England.—Lords, farewel.

Gre.
My comfort is,—that heaven will take our souls,
And plague injustice with the pains of hell.

Bol.
My lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd. [Exeunt Nor. and others, with the prisoners.
Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house;
For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated:
Tell her, I send to her my kind commends;
Take special care my greetings be deliver'd.

Yor.
A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd
With letters of your love to her at large.

Bol.
Thanks, gentle uncle.—Come, my lords, away;
A while to work, and, after, holiday. [Exeunt.

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