| Bristol. BOLINGBROKE'S Camp. | 
|  | 
| Enter BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, HENRY PERCY, WILLOUGHBY, ROSS; Officers behind, with BUSHY and GREEN prisoners. | 
| 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.  [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND and Others, with BUSHY and GREEN. | 
| 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. | 
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