EconlibThe LibraryOther Sites |
Front Page Titles (by Subject) Scene I.—: Bristol.Bolingbroke'sCamp. - The Tragedy of King Richard the Second
Return to Title Page for The Tragedy of King Richard the SecondThe Online Library of LibertyA project of Liberty Fund, Inc.Search this Title:Also in the Library:
Scene I.—: Bristol.Bolingbroke’sCamp. - William Shakespeare, The Tragedy of King Richard the Second [1597]Edition used:The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare), ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. (Oxford University Press, 1916).
Part of: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare)About Liberty Fund:Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals. Copyright information:The text is in the public domain. Fair use statement:This material is put online to further the educational goals of Liberty Fund, Inc. Unless otherwise stated in the Copyright Information section above, this material may be used freely for educational and academic purposes. It may not be used in any way for profit.
Scene I.—Bristol.Bolingbroke’sCamp.EnterBolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Henry Percy, Willoughby, Ross; Officers behind, withBushyandGreenprisoners. Boling.Bring forth these men. 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 deaths. You have misled a prince, a royal king, A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, By you unhappied 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 felled my forest woods, From mine own windows torn my household coat, Raz’d out my impress, leaving me no sign, Save men’s opinions and my living blood, To show the world I am a gentleman. 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. Bushy.More welcome is the stroke of death to me Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell. Green.My comfort is, that heaven will take our souls And plague injustice with the pains of hell. Boling.My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch’d. [ExeuntNorthumberlandand Others, withBushyandGreen. 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. York.A gentleman of mine I have dispatch’d With letters of your love to her at large. Boling.Thanks, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away, To fight with Glendower and his complices: Awhile to work, and after holiday. [Exeunt. |

Titles (by Subject)