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Act 5, Scene 5
Richard II Translation Act 5, Scene 6
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 is that the rebels have set the town of Cicester in Gloucestershire on fire; but we don't know whether they've been captured or killed.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Welcome, my lord what is the news?
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Welcome, my lord. What's 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 At large discoursed in this paper here.
NORTHUMBERLAND
First, I wish you all happiness in your sacred position. The next news is that I've sent the decapitated heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent to London; how I captured them is described in this paper.
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HENRY BOLINGBROKE
We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
We thank you, gentle Percy, for your efforts; we'll reward you well for this.
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 That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
LORD FITZWATER
My lord, from Oxford I've sent the heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely to London—they were two of the dangerous traitors that plotted against you.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Your actions won't be forgotten, Fitzwater; I know that you deserve rewards.
Enter HENRY PERCY, and the BISHOP OF CARLISLE
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 PERCY
The ringleader, the Abbot of Westminster, has died with the burden of a guilty conscience; but Carlisle is here, captured, to hear your sentence on him.
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.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Carlisle, this is my sentence. Find some secret place, some little monastery, and enjoy your life there. So long as you live in peace, die free from conflict; for though you've always been my enemy, I know you're an honorable man.
Enter EXTON, with persons bearing a coffin
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.
EXTON
Great king, I present your deepest fear. Richard of Bordeaux, the greatest of your enemies, lies in this coffin, brought here by me.
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.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
Exton, I don't thank you; for you have done a scandalous deed that will make me look guilty in the eyes of the world.
EXTON
From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.
EXTON
I did this because you asked me to with your own words, my lord.
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. 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.
HENRY BOLINGBROKE
No one loves poison, even when they need it—and I don't love you either. Though I wished him dead, I hate the murderer and love the one he killed. You won't get anything from me for your efforts but a guilty conscience; go wander in the desert, like Cain after he killed Abel, and never show your face here by day or night.
[To Lords] Lords, I tell you, I'm sad that I grow by the spilling of blood. Come, put on black clothes and mourn with me: I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, to wash this blood from my guilty hands. Come with me there, and grace our mourning here by joining the funeral procession.
Exeunt
