| ACT V SCENE VI | Windsor castle. | |
| | 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. | 5 |
| | Enter NORTHUMBERLAND | |
| | 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. | |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; | |
| | And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. | |
| | 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. | |
| 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 | |
| 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 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. | 30 |
| | 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | 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. | |
| | Exeunt | |
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